Even though she insists she was very stylish in her youth, I always thought my mom just had no sense of fashion.
I'm starting to realize what happened.
Something that's been perplexing me since Evan was born is how the harder I try to be fashionable, the worse I look. When I don't try, well, I just look like I'm not trying. Take for example - the other day when I met my sister, I was wearing an extremely thin, deep purple, long-sleeve turtleneck. Over it, I was wearing a short-sleeved, puffy-sleeved, jacket with one button at the neck and black and tan zebra stripes. I don't even know where I went wrong. I swear I was once very stylish!
So, take away the fact that my whole middle section is just wider (not to mention looser, and a couple other even less flattering adjectives that I won't add). I'm bigger "on top" than many of my old shirts will accommodate, and in a way that makes me look even wider (fatter), vs. sexy. At home (but not at the office), I need easy access to the milk-makers. I have to be ok with whatever I'm wearing getting pulled on and stretched, spit on, snot on, and food on. I have to wear clothes, shoes, and purse that allow me to bend down a lot, run, and turn on a dime. I can't wear accessories that are breakable or beg to be messed with.
Even with those restrictions, I should somehow manage to dress ok. I totally don't. Especially on work days, where I don't have to worry about taking care of a toddler.
First, here's how I've started shopping:
--> Does it look like it fits? Yes
--> Is it cheap? Yes
--> Is it "interesting" (somehow translates in my head to "fashionable")? Yes
--> Buy it.
My decision-making process is dictated by the following factors:
* Evan is usually with me.
* Evan is usually not happy with me.
* I am usually sweating and in a hurry (see previous two bullets).
* I don't have time to try it on.
* I don't have time to think about it. I need a formula.
So, I think you see how that's headed for disaster right there.
And then, because I've already bought something (even though it was cheap), I have to wear it ... because I am cheap and I need to get my money's worth. So I try to salvage the wreckage by combining interesting pieces, and overall, I don't get something that's better than its parts (goal) ... I get something weird and horrible (mistake).
There you have it. Until Evan is old enough to go off to some sport or other kid's house while I'm shopping, or just plain doesn't want to spend time with me any more (sad), I'm doomed to dress like an idiot. By that time, I'll probably be so used to dressing like an idiot that I'll think it's fashionable. Unless I have a daughter that tells me otherwise (like I did to my mom). Fantastic.
Finger Painting or Body Painting?
12 years ago
