Looking at my wardrobe this morning, I found myself thinking that it was all very inappropriate for my age.
Let's face it, I may look like I'm 16 (I did get carded for Kill Bill Vol. 2, which I can tell you was pretty embarrassing), but I'm not.
I realized that aside from maternity clothes and a handful of Old Navy tees, I haven't purchased anything new in the last five to six years.
My sister-in-law Joanna has given me plenty of cast-offs (kind of depressing, because she lost a lot of weight and they were her "fat" clothes and they fit me perfectly, but not as depressing as when my cousin Steph gave me a pair of shorts that she called "loose and comfortable for after pregnancy" and I couldn't even zip the fly) but she is a few years younger than me so they are all youthful as well.
I know it doesn't really matter what I wear because I have no job. But I still feel kind of weird pushing my stroller around in tight jeans and a tiny T-shirt with a sparkly Rainbow Brite iron-on.
Are you kidding? That sort of comfort is uber-sexy. Stick with it.
And by the way, my Sarah has that Rainbow Brite T-Shirt
Yes, but while your Sarah and I are close in age, she is not a stretch-marked, puffy-scarred mother of two. She can still pull off that look. I cannot.
A) You're not that much bigger than me and you can pull it off.
B) I too am getting hand me down clothes from other people's "fat clothes" collection.
Life is hard
Are you kidding? I'm in an overalls phase. Its like every other day with the overalls. And tshirts. And if I'm at the "office" and know that I won't see anyone all day all I can be bothered to do is put on work out shorts.
Why is it one extreme or the other with that shit? It is either cakes of makeup and thongs or jeans and tshirts.
Last Christmas, I had to borrow clothes from my sister to dress up for Mass. I put on one of her white collared dress shirts -- (it wasn't a button up, it was one of those v-neck dress shirt things they sell at Gap and Old Navy now.) It was so tight, I looked all lumpy, and couldn't breathe. When I tried to take it off, I realized I was stuck in it and needed Britt's help extracting it from my body. (Dad took a picture of this process.)
When I tried to put on the pants she lent me, I couldn't squeeze all my flabby abs into them at the same time. I just kept mumbling, "You skinny bitch," as I tried to zip them.
I've definitely had that "lumpy" experience in a button-up shirt, especially when breastfeeding and having abnormally large and weird looking boobs.
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