I have no idea what I'm supposed to be wearing now. Not as in right this second, (right this second I'm wearing a snuggie and a tiara) but now; as in,
at (almost) 31,
and at 30lbs less of a fat ass than I was in July.
I DO have some nice clothes, (all, I might add, chosen and supplied my my ridiculously chic mama) but I get these bizarro pangs of uncertainty about them. I will, for example, try on four different outfits and decide on one; but SECONDS before I leave the house I slither back into the jeans, sneaks and hoodie that seem to be my uniform. I dress like an unhip 12 year old boy. Ironically my kid dresses like a GQ model, see:
What I really need is a Reachel Bagley, she's a stylist and has a rather smashing blog called Cardigan Empire, where she essentially holds your hand and steers you 'round the curves of the business of getting dressed. Kind of like the What Not To Wear folks, but with class and humor and she doesn't dress everyone like a New Jersey housewife.
At half way to being not a fat ass (Yes, 30lbs is half way, and yes, I was the size of an Orca) I am starting to feel a bit like there is an attainable goal at the end of this. As in, ME - not fat. I have promised myself a Reachel-over Look Book as a "yay for me" treat in another 15lbs time.
but for right now I am shamelessly lurking and trying to step away from the hoodie.
And hey guys, if you happen to run into Reachel's babies whilst on your travels, then give them a hug from us and point them in her direction, she's been waiting for them.