Tuesday, June 30, 2009
One of the lingering vestiges of my former Hollywood life is my thrice annual fancy Beverly Hills hair appointment. (It’s all about the highlights, friends.) At my last appointment, as I sat under the dryer with the obligatory fountain of tin foil squares shooting from my scalp, I couldn’t help but notice that as far as fashion goes, there was a definite “look for summer” going on. I was not sporting it.
The 90210 gals were wearing tight, straight leg jeans or kicky little (So little!) skirts, fun ruffle trimmed t-shirts and sweet sandals. I glanced down at my own fetching ensemble of borderline mom jeans, t-shirt-I-slept-in and pleather Target flats. I am certainly not in competition with the shiny young crowd but, nevertheless, I had still hoped to avoid the look of the I-Gave-Up-Mom.
You know the I-Gave-Up-Mom type. You’ve seen her in stretched out yoga pants crawling along behind a “jogging” stroller through the park. She's the one wearing bedroom slippers, bribing her howling toddler with free cake samples at Trader Joe’s. She's the new mom at pre-school who in just a week, has earned the nickname "the-one-in-the-blue-t-shirt". Oh crap. That’s me.
I admit that I am currently fashion unconscious. Bob is three-years-old and I still have two maternity tops in my wardrobe rotation. I have no defense except, you know, I'm...um... busy? It’s not good, dude.
If I make the move to ditch all the ill fitting pants, pill-y sweaters and weird underpants, I will have to walk around half-naked most of the time. It’s taken four years to destroy my style motivation and beat most of the cute stuff out of my wardrobe. Because I am only moderately inspired to improve the situation and also don’t plan on throwing a big wad of cash at this fashion crisis, it could be a long, unflattering road back.
Labels: self improvement