Monday, March 24, 2014

{Monday Morsels} Sarah's Epic Quest for Fashion

Hey. It's me. Sarah. (I won't indict poor Courtney in this post because she will be mortified I am sure) (she's probably doing something awesome or productive).

SO my post is a bit of rambling gambit of nonsense because I am just tired and overwhelmed but we haven't posted in a month of Sundays (whatever that means).

Hello! We're alive. 

And recently both Courtney and I have been talking about revamping our wardrobes and developing a personal style. While we might do a serious post on this in the future, this post is mostly just a rant. 

Because what is with clothes these days!? Or is it just me? 

I've been on a quest to look cute. If you're bored and have nothing better to do on a Monday night, please, join me for what my typical Epic Journey to Fashion looks like. 

Warning: It will probably make you feel better about yourself. 

I see an adorable outfit somewhere (Probably on Pinterest. Stupid Pinterest). 

This makes me look down at the stains on the boobular region of some campaign T-shirt I've had since I was 16 (or a cute shirt someone bought for me that lasted like 37 hours with no stains) and the fat jeans I'm stuck in since my body randomly decided to change shapes post-baby. Also, note food stains from the baby ok, from me AND the baby. 

A decision falls into my lap: I need an update. Inspiration blossoms. At this point, I giddily tango to my closet, riding on the winds of my inspiration to be cute. 

But first, I fortify myself with some kind of substance. Normally coffee. Or tea. Or if I'm feeling the need to be skinny, water. 

And then I turn to my nemesis: my current wardrobe. 

My clothes hang limp and dull in the dark. They mock me from the drawers and the box labeled "Clothes That Don't Fit" (i.e., maternity and pre-pregnancy, angrily stuffed into the same box). 

I fly through my options, noting what works, what I need to just let go already, and write down what I need to bridge the gap to Beautiful & Cute University in Sophistication Towne.  (The 'e' makes it fancy, y'all)

Before I head out, I survey the bones of my savage rampage and squelch panic. It's not time to panic yet. I'm going to go out and get some staples to freshen up my options. 

So then I head to the discount store because I just can't justify spending too much on clothes. They're just clothes. Right?

But then I see all the options and I long for a paper bag to breathe into rapidly and also a personal shopper and a tree that grows money. A woman can dream. 

So then I whirl through the clothes, eliminating options with a practiced eye (no to that color, what does that even cover?, heck no to the fabric, sequins are out, lace is itchy, etc), and gather the few options that remain into my arms like a sheaf of wheat. 

Then I face the dressing room. The lady kinda hands me the number of my options (thank GOD there are no bathing suits. That's a fight for another day). 

I'm pretty sure dressing rooms are designed to make women look so horrifying that we're so desperate to cover up that we'll buy everything we try on. It's something about the lighting and the angle of the mirror (and some other kind of wizardry) that accentuates everything that's wrong. A little cellulite? In the dressing room, you're basically a lump of adipose. A few freckles and moles? The dressing room mirror makes you look like some deformed witch. Wider thighs? Whoah nelly! You're gonna need a demolition team just to get out of here.

I do my best to ignore the monster in the mirror and try on clothes, muttering that I will look cute, I will find something. 

The dressing room is also some kind of time and space vortex. 

You can go in on a Tuesday and leave on a Friday. Between eliminating what you like and trying a thousand variations of "Hm. Maybe another size/color/cut/price/designer," you emerge blinking like Rip Van Winkle. 

If I make it through the rigors of the actual dressing room and actually emerge with a conquest, I cling to that sucker like it's the Holy Grail. 

And usually stain it by the time I get home. Or the baby pukes on it. Or it looks worse in the Real Mirrors I have at home. 

And do you know what? This all gets infinitely harder once you have kids. Since the baby, it's been even harder. 

Heck. If I'm a mom, I might as well embrace the mom jeans a la Saturday Night Live.**

I mean, I'm a mom, right?
Watch the video in the link.

**Life Partner: Do not fear, I won't actually succumb to mom jeans!! I'll still look hawt for you - I just might only wear muumuus but that's at least all flowy right? Mystery is the new sexy. xoxo


  1. I can't thank you enough for this "rant" of a post. I've been there, and I am there (yet again). You made me laugh so hard (when talking about the dressing room) that I almost spat out my tea. I am really interested in follow up posts on this topic. Especially if it will help me. Though I'm pretty sure I'm helpless. Is it too much to ask to look cute, or at least presentable?

  2. Spitting out my tea due to laughter is the cause of the ruination of most my clothes. ;) (seriously, I overcompensated on the water during our first date and it soaked my front. So awkward and such foreshadowing).

    But yeah I'm going through the book Embracing Beauty by Trina Holden (which I highly recommend to all people who struggle with this - it's life changing). And I will be documenting/going through my journey to presentable town - or at least a manageable system.

    I've by no means mastered the issue, but I've grown. ;)

    Thanks for reading!

  3. I'll look for your posts on Embracing Beauty. At this point, I just want to be in shape and feel healthy. It seems like I start to get on a good track with being active and then we get sick and approx one month later when we're all healthy I've lost some hard-earned endurance and gained a few pounds back.