Saturday, August 8, 2009
Yesterday before we took Eleanore and Charlie to the library, Christopher came down the stairs, looking handsome. New Dickies shorts, a nice short sleeved button down shirt, just handsome. I love seeing him dressed in something other than his work uniform. While camo looks good on him, so does adult attire.
I looked down at myself, wearing my mom uniform. An XXL maternity shirt (they're just so comfortable), with some black food covered Bermuda length cotton workout shorts.
*Fast forward to right now.
I'm getting ready to take myself out to the craft store. No crying kids. No easily distracted husband. Just me. A few minutes ago, I went to put on a "nice outfit". Something that doesn't have banana mashed into it. Something not decorated in grease spots. Something that isn't a dead giveaway that I spend my days elbow deep in diapers and baby cereal. Something that I actually feel good about wearing.
I don't have anything.
Not, "I don't have anything" in a "I have things, I just don't want to wear them" kind of way. I really don't have anything.
I'm standing about two pounds away from an even fifty pound weight loss. The negative part of this scene, is the only clothes that seem to fit my new body, are clothes that I wore when I was nineteen years old. A lot of revealing dresses and skirts, and shirts that lack the length to cover the newly expanded nursing parts of my body. Nothing that my 25 year old grown up conscious is at all interested, or comfortable, wearing.
The only salvageable piece of clothing, is an old My Chemical Romance shirt. Not exactly something I'd choose to put on when date night rolls around, ya know?
I'm reluctant to buy new clothes. Not only because I'm probably going to have to put them on plastic, but also because the act of shopping for things that properly fit my body and look good at the same time, seems like more of a hassle than anything.
I'm having one of those days. An "I need new clothes" kind of day.