Okay, awhile ago, I lamented my situation with fashion. I used to have at least one foot in. I used to be on decent terms. We were friendly. And then.... I guess we had a falling out. It all started with that 55 pounds of "baby weight" (I like to tell myself it was baby weight, although my baby weighed in under 8 pounds.) Then the fluctuation thereafter. Two more babies. And then the budget. Strict budgets don't run in the same circle as fashion. At least, my Budget and my Fashion didn't seem to be getting along.
A few months ago I decided: Enough! This is nonsense. Of course my Budget and my Fashion can be friends. I know Budget well, we really like each other. But Fashion, on the other hand... we're just not seeing eye-to-eye. But, I knew eventually we'd all be getting along better.
My dear husband casually gave me a gift of cash he'd been hoarding for months, so that after Esmé was born and I was starting to feel like myself again (ha! Little did we know I have no idea who that is) I'd have some extra shopping money. Swoon.
So, I got some new digs. I do my hair 3.5 days a week. I am starting to look okay again, I start to think. I may be figuring this out.
And then. This.
I was walking the kids to school, glowing with my new confidence, day-dreaming about what I'd wear to the next Book Club or Girl's Night or Date Night (as that's the extent of my social life) when I just happened to look down.
Look at this. Look at how I left the house.
And then it got worse.
I looked down:
Ugh. This is not the look I'm hoping for.
This is the look I'm going for. Late 1960's Parisian Librarian. Is that so hard??
|Chris Benz - now that's a yellow much more mellow!|
Budget is bitching at me right now, I have to go soothe her.
P.S. Chris Benz is my current Fashion Dreamboat, can you tell?