I used to be cool. Ok, not really really cool, but at least passable so. Not so much anymore. I drive a mini van. My entire wardrobe can be summed up in 2 words: jeans and cotton knit. I have become the yoga pant wearing soccer mom I never wanted to be. Lest I offend anyone, I have nothing against soccer moms, I just didn't want to BE one.
I like clothes. I like fashion, trendy things and funky stuff that expresses who I am. What does it mean then that most of my clothing is solid color, functional and disproportionately black and white?
Today I was shopping at Target today, like I do every Friday I checked the sale rack. You know I love a good deal. I came across a cardigan I liked in white and a cute sweater in black. I picked them both up, knowing they will match everything I own and would be highly functional. Sigh. I bore even myself.
And then I saw it. The fabric is dry clean only, it was not kid friendly and I can't think of one place I am going in the next six months that I would need to wear it so of course I went and tried it on. It was cute. Really cute and on sale. I bought it if for no other reason than to prove that I can not only look like a grown up instead of just a mommy, but I can look sexy too! Somewhere beneath the spit up stains, cotton knit and denim, there is a woman who actually gives a rip about how she looks. Maybe some day when I have had a little more sleep, a few more dollars and the ability to use the bathroom by myself, I will find this lady. I will introduce myself to her and pray by boobs are still perky enough to look good in my new, little black dress.