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| Rainbow stripes are slimming. |
And now, a half-week update on Boycotton (a term I’ve just now thoroughly invented to define my week-long ban on sweatpants):
I continue to not wear my cozies- excepting, obviously, those occasions wherein it is not only acceptable but expected; bedtime, early evening viewings of Jane Eyre, etc., etc.- and here is what I’ve found.
It is difficult. Because nothing fits. Nothing. I am too small to wear my maternity pants (you so rarely hear the upside of gestational diabetes), but haven’t as yet been able to smoothly transition to my normal jeans. The operative word being “smooth.”
And yes. I am temporarily boycotting sweatpants but have no issue with the denim.
So. Thursday I wore ill-fitting jeans and a sweater. Upon which Suzy promptly spit up, but which I continued to wear. Because I am fancy and was able to hide it under the baby sling. I wore makeup and brushed my hair. P.J., who reads this blog and was intensely aware of this project, told me that I looked “nice.” (And when I announced that I was going to put on my pajamas, he gave me a look that I SWEAR asked if I wasn’t already wearing them.)
Friday. That night was Neil’s going away party, and I dressed up the gals- and myself- to have an early din out on the town. Because nothing says FUN like taking a toddler and a newborn to a pub by oneself. (Oh, the looks.) My pants and top were no match for my elder daughter’s self-picked outfit of a sweater dress, skinny jeans, and shiny red Mary Janes. Hipster. (Susannah wore a clever hat and a baby sling. I wore Susannah.) I’m pretty sure that I did something different with my hair. I might even have used a styling product. Today’s experiment went entirely unnoticed except for the Under-2 set. (Nora, for her part, has been amazing throughout this endeavor. “Mommy, are you wearing stripes? Is that an orange shirt? Your hair is pretty! Can I wear that shoe? There’s a sticker on your leg!”)
Saturday. I looked awesome on Saturday. Layers, boots, showerliness, all of it. We all looked really good. Why? Well, we had to jaunt over to our pals’ home for the birthday party of their two year-old, Elijah. Which…is actually next weekend. (Sorry, Cassie.) And did I mention that they just had a baby and Saturday was their first day home? Yeah, we’re that family.
On Sunday we went to Mass, so I wore an entirely different sweater and pair of bizarrely fitting pants…but paired with the baby sling (holding the zonked-out baby) it only served to bunch up the sweater. Causing me to look like a lady wearing an ill-fitting afghan and bizarrely fitting pants. I had put my hair half up but, due to the crazy gales of wind, I looked like Don King. In an ill-fitting afghan and such.
When we got home I gave up and put on my Hampshire hoodie.
Which is the new subtitle of my memoirs.
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