What Not To Wear: Operation DeMomFrump

I've always been a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. Heels and dresses were reserved for the office, weddings, and Easter Sunday church service because buying a new outfit made me feel less guilty about only showing up once a year. My shoe collection consisted of whatever athletic shoe I was sing for gym workouts and the six-inch wedge sandals I considered practical enough for a weekend walking Mackinac Island with Husband when he was still The Boyfriend.

Marriage didn't take my style. In fact, I thought I was doing pretty good five years into motherhood. Ballet flats and denim capris. Flip flops and maxi dresses. So what if I occasionally like to wrap a hoodie around my waist because I think it works with the outfit? Who cares if the only reason The Husband rolls his eyes when I buy another pair of shoes only because he knows without asking that whatever I bought can be described as "adorable" and will allow me to chase after a child without having to worry about breaking my neck, like my kick-ass Barefoot Merrells? Because "practical" actually comes to mean "not wearing a six-inch wedge sandal to walk a tourist island because that would just be stupid" when one is 34 and not 24 and...

Okay, so maybe The Husband has a point. Maybe I need to spice things up a bit and get a pair of anything other than a new pair of Converse. And perhaps BFF Heather is right in that I can lose the assmoflauge...most of the time. But I still happen to think that I'm not a lost cause and that Stacey London wouldn't be ripping my wardrobe to shreds. If, however, you were to ask The Husband or BFF Heather, I am sure they would gladly throw me and my TOMS under the fashion bus.

All of this came into play very recently with my cousin's wedding, which is in just two weeks. We're flying from Tucson to Detroit and spending an ungodly amount of money on a  flower girl dress, so I was thinking I should be practical. I had two perfectly good dresses in my closet that would work. Both look very nice, flaunt my curves, and hide the poofy bits. So what if one was purchased for Bloggy Boot Camp and the other was purchased for Easter of 2009? I like to buy things that are classic for a freaking reason, people. But hubby said no. And BFF Heather told me to stop being a pansy. I'm toning up, going down in clothing sizes, and need to embrace my new reflection, she told me. (And don't ask me what I weigh, because I threw away my scale.) Then she must have bribed Buttercup to pick dresses outside of Mama's Comfort Zone when the child and I went shopping, cuz I somehow ended up with a few I would not have chosen for myself in the dressing room and after text messaging photos of myself in various styles to both the BFF and hubby, I ended up coming home with one dress I selected and one selected by Buttercup.

Guess which one those two traitors outvoted me into wearing?

 

 

I keep trying to come up with a valid argument to get out of strutting my stuff in Option B because, well, look at it! I don't think I've had anything that even remotely fit me like this since my early 20's and..oh holy shit I just lost my own argument, didn't I?

Fine.

l'll wear the damned dress. And on Wednesday, y'all can come back to point and laugh when I discuss the intricacies of relearning how to walk (in stilettos).