Today is a momentous day at The Jet Set.
Sick and tired of those stupid summer clothes (with their unflattering short sleeves and thin fabrics,) I pulled out my boxes of fall and winter things. Oh, my lovely raiments! I didn't get to wear my cute, cute fall clothes last year because I was knocked, knocked up. Digging through my clothing hoard is nothing to write home, or to you, about. However, the fact that I put on the clothes and THEY FIT certainly is something to write to you about. Sure, a few things still need an adjustment, but I am not in my fat wardrobe anymore.
For my male readers:
Big, fat, I'm going to cry 9 month maternity clothes
Regular maternity clothes
Post maternity clothes (aka super-fat wardrobe)
By the Hammer of Thor I will never be able to wear these again but I can't give them up clothes
With all that clothing complexity, now you see why so many of us like our shoes and accessories; they still fit us when we're fat or skinny.
I seriously can't wait to put all those awful summer clothes into the deep freeze. What can I say, I'm just not a warm-weather dresser. Give me a silk skirt, wool sweater, and knee-high boots. And then give me leather driving gloves, a fur collar, and a chapeau. Can you pass me the houndstooth coat please? Why underdress when you can overdress? That's my motto. Well, one of my many mottos.
Other samples of my mottos: Try anything once! (generic,) Don't waste your calories on bad food (a little preachy,) and If you have a choice between baking and cleaning, always pick the baking (that's more like it.)
In between shoveling carrot cake in my mouth (see above,) I have been a little lax at watching my exercise and intake. I still have a little ways to go. Even further if I keep finding new uses and applications for Nutella.
I tried to do yoga a couple weeks ago for the first time since the baby. You know how when you're in shape and you push yourself you feel the effects the next day, and sometimes even worse the day after. It's going to be really bad if later that same day you begin to feel the tell-tale signs of stiffness. I knew I'd over stepped my abilities when I could hardly walk by 6pm. It felt as if I'd been jumped in to my first gang (East Siiiide.) I hobbled around for the next week cursing those first workout blues ("Neptune's Trident! This hurts!")
It's all going to be worth it when I can slide like Dietrich into a pair of new wide-legged pants (but not too much like Dietrich, if you know what I mean.)
In my head I buy all these nicely tailored but basic pieces and then embellish them (not be-dazzle them) in the fashion of Anthropologie. People are so complimentary when I tell them, "Oh, actually, I made this...yes, I know...I found the fabric at a little shop on Rue du Fromage... it's incredibly hard to come by...yes, it is lovely...I find great satisfaction in sewing my own clothes...I just enjoy wearing beautiful things... it's really a priority for me."
Let's be honest, if I'm picking up a shirt from the floor and spot-wiping it to get the baby puke out before throwing it on and going out the door, I don't exactly have the time to create a one of a kind piece of wearable art.
The worst part is that I am absolutely capable: I own the tools and am design-minded enough to do that kind of handiwork. I know how to tailor clothing. I just need to accept that those types of projects are not going to get done at this time in my life. (Note to self: scrap "Why pay for it if you can do it yourself?" from the motto list.)
That's OK, being reunited with my cozy fall wardrobe shall console me.
Oh! New motto! "After two kids you should totally be able to buy yourself a new wardrobe."