Okay, after watching Oprah yesterday, I have never been so inspired to update my wardrobe. It was a true 'light-bulb' moment -- and I'm proud to stand up and say, I need some serious fashion intervention.
For those of you who don't watch it, the Oprah show did an entire hour on shoes and accessories. It was life changing. I'm not kidding. It was all about pairing the right pair of shoes with the right bag, and, if you are daring, finding a great belt to go with it, too. There were women who looked terrible in their 'before' pictures, but by the 'after' - with no weight loss, no hair or makeup changes - they looked awesome. Truly inspiring. Oprah even broke out a new word in my life - the sha-booty. Part shoe, part boot, they are the latest trend in footwear. And they are awfully cute.
I feel so much like I've been in a rut lately, and this show came at the right time. I'm still about 10 pounds away from fitting into even my largest pair of jeans, which leaves me wearing yoga pants on a daily basis. (maybe it's time to lay-off the donuts...) My hair hasn't been cut or highlighted since pre-Scotty, so it's this long red mass that reaches almost down to the middle of my back. The bags under my eyes - don't even get me started. And as for the rest of my fashion sense, pretty much everything I own has been spit-up or vomited on, so I've resorted to wearing either all black or clothes I don't care about. I always thought I would be somewhat of a trendy mother, but I'm not even on the map at this point. Clean is acceptable in my world. Oh, how the expectations have been lowered.
In short, I'm looking vaguely homeless these days.
That point was really hammered home today by our latest outing. I took Scotty to the park. In Vegas, that means an outdoor area with fake grass in the middle of a shopping complex. As we sauntered through Banana Republic, I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Aside from the somewhat new stroller I was pushing and the adorably cute baby in said stroller, my worst fears were confirmed -- my physical appearance suggests that I possibly may sleep under a bridge at night covered in old newspapers. Not only were my eyes impossibly bloodshot (thank you, sleep deprivation), but my black cardigan that looked cute this morning was hanging off of my shoulders, spit-up spots clearly visible, and my super-comfy running shoes looked horrible against my over-sized yoga pants. In fact, let me illustrate my point with the self-portrait I took in the park:
For those of you who don't watch it, the Oprah show did an entire hour on shoes and accessories. It was life changing. I'm not kidding. It was all about pairing the right pair of shoes with the right bag, and, if you are daring, finding a great belt to go with it, too. There were women who looked terrible in their 'before' pictures, but by the 'after' - with no weight loss, no hair or makeup changes - they looked awesome. Truly inspiring. Oprah even broke out a new word in my life - the sha-booty. Part shoe, part boot, they are the latest trend in footwear. And they are awfully cute.
I feel so much like I've been in a rut lately, and this show came at the right time. I'm still about 10 pounds away from fitting into even my largest pair of jeans, which leaves me wearing yoga pants on a daily basis. (maybe it's time to lay-off the donuts...) My hair hasn't been cut or highlighted since pre-Scotty, so it's this long red mass that reaches almost down to the middle of my back. The bags under my eyes - don't even get me started. And as for the rest of my fashion sense, pretty much everything I own has been spit-up or vomited on, so I've resorted to wearing either all black or clothes I don't care about. I always thought I would be somewhat of a trendy mother, but I'm not even on the map at this point. Clean is acceptable in my world. Oh, how the expectations have been lowered.
In short, I'm looking vaguely homeless these days.
That point was really hammered home today by our latest outing. I took Scotty to the park. In Vegas, that means an outdoor area with fake grass in the middle of a shopping complex. As we sauntered through Banana Republic, I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Aside from the somewhat new stroller I was pushing and the adorably cute baby in said stroller, my worst fears were confirmed -- my physical appearance suggests that I possibly may sleep under a bridge at night covered in old newspapers. Not only were my eyes impossibly bloodshot (thank you, sleep deprivation), but my black cardigan that looked cute this morning was hanging off of my shoulders, spit-up spots clearly visible, and my super-comfy running shoes looked horrible against my over-sized yoga pants. In fact, let me illustrate my point with the self-portrait I took in the park:
Does this baby make me look fat?
Needless to say, it was so bad that I had to cover myself with a cute baby to hide my fashion disaster.
So, I'm committed to regaining some level of myself - as small as that might be - in order to regain normalcy. Motherhood is really a trip - some days are so hectic I don't even have time to brush my teeth. But I'd like to think the worst days are behind us and blond highlights are just what the doctor ordered.
Another mom in the park struck up a conversation with me, and I think she was trying hard to not laugh at me. She asked if this was my first child. I wonder what gave it away. Was it the fact that I was taking a million pictures of my child doing absolutely nothing note-worthy? (see below). Was it because I had him dressed for arctic weather when it was a balmy 75 degrees and sunny? Or was it because every time I attempted to burp Scotty, I consistently missed his spit-up in the burp cloth and instead, it landed on both me and him? Or was it my enormous diaper bag that is packed with everything from extra bottles to 27 diapers that highlighted my newness?
I want to fit in again with regular women...you know, the ones who actually accessorize with something other than burp clothes. The ones who have real french manicures, not just ample amounts of Destin caked under their fingernails. Women who carry purses, not just diaper bags. Women who look like women, not slaves to 15-pound hams on a sleep strike.
And at this rate, Scotty's first word is going to be 'sha-booty' since that's all I've said since yesterday's episode. It's a fun word to say and hopefully an even better trend to wear. Try it for yourself!
Sha-booty!
So, I'm committed to regaining some level of myself - as small as that might be - in order to regain normalcy. Motherhood is really a trip - some days are so hectic I don't even have time to brush my teeth. But I'd like to think the worst days are behind us and blond highlights are just what the doctor ordered.
Another mom in the park struck up a conversation with me, and I think she was trying hard to not laugh at me. She asked if this was my first child. I wonder what gave it away. Was it the fact that I was taking a million pictures of my child doing absolutely nothing note-worthy? (see below). Was it because I had him dressed for arctic weather when it was a balmy 75 degrees and sunny? Or was it because every time I attempted to burp Scotty, I consistently missed his spit-up in the burp cloth and instead, it landed on both me and him? Or was it my enormous diaper bag that is packed with everything from extra bottles to 27 diapers that highlighted my newness?
I want to fit in again with regular women...you know, the ones who actually accessorize with something other than burp clothes. The ones who have real french manicures, not just ample amounts of Destin caked under their fingernails. Women who carry purses, not just diaper bags. Women who look like women, not slaves to 15-pound hams on a sleep strike.
And at this rate, Scotty's first word is going to be 'sha-booty' since that's all I've said since yesterday's episode. It's a fun word to say and hopefully an even better trend to wear. Try it for yourself!
Sha-booty!
Scotty being...Scotty!
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