First of all, I would like to say that I am (finally) recovering from a 10-day hiatus…terrible cold followed by a massive sinus infection. Now that I’ve been kicked to the curb by my body, I am dusting myself off and regrouping. Recovering from an illness makes me feel re-energized: I can get back to my workouts, eat more, and shower daily. I find myself also longing to dress better, you know, seeking out a fresh new beginning for myself. This has led me to a mental assessment of my current wardrobe situation: dreadful.
Let me start by saying that I own more fleece than cashmere. The few cashmere sweaters I DO have seem to have moth holes in them because I’ve been so busy taking care of other people that my closet has been totally neglected. The one thing I do have going for me is that Gordie is from Vermont, where fleece is always considered sexy, or so I am told.
That’s the least of my problems though. I’ve got an awesome collection of black “yoga” pants. “Yoga pants” is a kind way of saying “elastic-waisted pants that you’ve worn for the last 6 years at all the many moments when nothing else fit.” Some are more of a couture yoga pant: Gap or Athleta, while others made their way to my house from places like Kohl’s and Target (remember: it’s Tar-jjjjay). The funny thing about the yoga pants is that most people I know (me included) really have done little to no yoga in them. They’ve really served more as loungewear than anything, while often coupled with a t-shirt and fleece top for public appearances.
The biggest situation I’ve got going on is in my underwear drawer. When I was 25 or 30 I might have called that my lingerie drawer, but those days feel over. I’m done having babies, so now maybe I am ready to bring some life back into the drawer?! First of all, half of my underwear probably would reach my (drooping) breasts if I pulled it up just a little higher. I just love how it’s become an issue that my husband is telling me before we go out “umm, your underwear is hanging out of the top of your pants.” Super. The evening could not be starting off on a worse note. I HAVE converted over to low-rise jeans, but high-rise underwear plus low-rise pants makes for a fashion emergency. Meanwhile, the poor guy is probably thinking he’s never going to see a thong again. I haven’t decided yet if he’s right or not. Is it me, or do they just not quite fit or feel the same as they did before? But the granny panties have got to go, so that’s pledge #1. The mid-range pantie I have are the 6 pairs of white 100% cotton JOCKEY bikinis I bought at another motherhood favorite boutique: COSTCO. Hey, there is nothing like buying your kids diapers, wipes, formula, milk, paper towel, and your clothing under one roof. Right?!?
So this is what I am faced with ladies. Why do we moms wake up one day with toddlers and preschoolers and realize that on some days our outfits could give the perception that we are homeless? I’m just waiting now for that day when I find my eyes blacked over on the back page of GLAMOUR magazine’s “fashion don’ts” article. It is time to start a new style file and get my groove back in my closet- among other places, of course.