Chapter Twenty Seven; Mirror Mirror on the Wall, Who's the Haggish One of All?

Who is that hag and why does she follow me everywhere I go?

Oh wait. That would be me.

Damn mirror.

And so went my typical inner dialogue back in 2005.

In high school I had been the pretty popular girl. Cheerleader. Homecoming queen. (For the record, the latter is an utterly over rated accolade for someone like me from Reduce Speed, Rural America. The rhinestone tiara honor culminated in my donning a prom dress, perching atop a folding chair in the back of my cousin’s pick up, and tossing tootsie rolls at screaming redneck children during the two block long parade. Thank God that moment did not serve as the pinnacle of my life’s success, let’s just acknowledge that now, shall we?)

My point is that the 32-year-old frumpy mom in my mirror had once upon a time been:

The Hot Girl

But eleven years of domestic wedded (cough!) bliss had chilled said hotness on a glacial level. I was now the “Not Hot Girl,” any and all of my former sizzle having been extinguished long ago. It was probably buried somewhere in my basement ice chest, beneath frosty forgotten freezer burned venison from my dad, circa deer hunting season 1999.

I was definitely not attending any high school reunions in this arctic condition that was for sure.

Oh yeah. It was bad.

The simple truth is I had gotten so consumed with perfecting the façade of a life that I had forgotten all about the authentic Audra. I ate like crap (brownie, anyone?) never exercised (What? I walked to this couch!) and had apparently gone comatose in regard to fashion sense when I decided to quit highlighting my hair and chop it all off (What's wrong with practical?).

The bottom line is that I was certainly no M.I.L.F. (“Mom I’d like to _________”)

Oh no. I was more like a M.I.L.K. (“Mom I’d like to Know”)

I was the mother that caused men to swoon for my sinfully good chocolate chip cookies not the kind that inspired swooning of a sinfully naughty nature.

And so, my “Get Hot” (a.ka. To Hell with the Hag) plan was born.

Enough was enough.

The super condensed version is that I was going to rediscover my old self again if it killed me. And it practically did.

I spent the next year running the equivalent of the earth’s circumference (twice) on a treadmill, investing enough money at the hair salon to feed a third world village for a year, and actually started buying my clothes at (gasp!) the mall.

All this just to hunt down that elusive steamy little bitch.

It was no small task but I eventually found her again twelve months and a few dress sizes later, back in my mirror where she belongs. Wearing size four designer jeans and sporting a killer mane of blonde hair.

Out with the hag, in with the hottie! Audra, the sequel, was back.

Unfortunately, more than just the visible areas of my life were also begging for a transformation. The invisible needed attending to as well. You see, once the outer was tackled I could no longer ignore what was going with me on the inside: this feeling I carried around with me for years that I was wearing a pair of shoes just a size too small, or that my shirt was on backward. Something didn’t fit quite right, something was wrong.

It didn’t take long to figure out what aspect of my life that that was.

Let me put it this way: When your marriage counselor recommends a reputable book that identifies 35 areas of marital discontent and your marriage hits 34 of them, it is time to wake up and smell the separation agreement.

Long story short, the last three years of my life involved conversions on major levels. But every single one of them was vital if I was going to grow and become the person I was always meant to be.

Now the calendar says 2008 and my outside, inside, (and signature!) are all in great shape and back to their original packaging.

But most importantly, the girl in my mirror is no longer a stranger. I recognize her and know exactly who she is.

And let me tell you, she is no hag.