I used to wear thong underwear.
In fact my college roommates and I used to have thong slingshot fights at the laundromat.
Until one of them would inevitably get hooked behind the washer on a drain pipe, or hung up in the light fixture (the underwear, not the roommates).
These days, my underpants are large and roomy. (To read more about what I’m currently wearing, read My Husband is Head Over Hanes for Me.)
But I do still own two thongs.
For more than a year now, my best friend and I have exchanged outfit photos each morning.
See my outfits here.
See her outfits here.
It’s been a great exercise for me because it’s forced me to put more effort into what I wear (and come to grips with my body image – I’m a size 8, and that’s OK!)
I believe when a woman likes her outfit,
1. Pumpkin Spice Lattes at Fivebucks.
I mean Starbucks. It’s not my favorite time of year until I’m spending half my paycheck and one-fourth of my daily-calorie-intake on a 12 oz. cup of pie-flavored steamed milk.
Let’s hope the high-waisted-shorts trend dies before the spring flowers bloom again.
When I was in college, the trend was LOW-rise shorts. So low, that girls’
If you’ve had a baby, you know that baby shoes are totally impractical.
Babies kick them off, fuss when you try to wrestle them back on and outgrow them too quickly.
They are a total pain in the ass.
But they are soooooooooo cute.
So when I found a plaque that read: “Cinderella is proof that shoes can change your life.”
Ugh, I died.
This afternoon I worked on inspiration boards for the prettiest red head I know.
She doesn’t need a makeover, but then again, most of my “clients” don’t need makeovers.
They just need a little help making outfits with the clothes they already have, and a little guidance on what else to buy!
She’s a mother of two, so she needs easy, effortless pieces.
Here are the boards I created for her.
Why is it that I always have to pee more often when I’m wearing a one-piece bathing suit?
Probably because it’s sucking in my fat so forcefully that my bladder cannot store even one 12 oz. poolside beverage for any length of time.
I know everyone else is just peeing in the water.
That dad in the Deep End, with the red solo cup, has been sitting in his inner tube for 3 hours.
A few weeks ago my adorable coworker, Brittany, came to me… frustrated.
She’d been shopping for clothes and NOTHING fit (welcome to the club, right?)
“Where were you shopping?” I asked.
“Macy’s” she answered. But with more prodding, I discovered, she’d been browsing the JUNIOR’s department [insert gasp].
Well, there’s your problem.
She’s 24 and in that weird stage between being a teenager and a woman (when you’re getting your master’s degree,
Nothing makes you wanna kill yourself like shopping for a bathing suit.
Shortly after I had Colt, my mother convinced me to start shopping at Bealls Department Store. I guess she was implying that my days at Victoria’s Secret were over.
At Bealls, I found a cute coral one-piece that has been my go-to mommy suit for two years now.
But the elastic has dry-rotted, the seams are torn and the crotch is pilly.
I have to look nice at work. No jeans. No shorts. Definitely no jorts.
A dress code is OK by me. I believe that clothes (done right) can make you look slimmer, younger and just feel…happier!
I read all the fashion magazine articles – “How to Dress Two Sizes Smaller”, “Dress Up to Slim Down.” Blah. Blah. Blah.
I read Tim Gunn’s column in Marie Claire every month.
The principles behind these articles are always the same:
“I have Jury Duty.”
You might as well tell your friends you have the Ebola Virus.
They will feel SO BAD for you… but will secretly celebrate that they don’t have it.
Quite honestly, I don’t mind jury “service.”
The term “service” has replaced “duty” (perhaps to sound less obligatory and more honorary?) But it’s kind of like a colonoscopy, you can call it whatever you want,