Mom to the rescue!

My parents managed to snag cheap tickets to Denver from Chicago at Thanksgiving…no mean feat. Cheap tix, no blackout dates, get to eat turkey with us…it’s a great thing. See, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. And I’m pretty sure it’s my brother’s favorite, for probably the same reasons. I’ll get into all of that closer to Turkey Day.

But my mom will be here at the end of the month and has offered to assist in my shopping dilemma. Because neither of us is insane enough to join the throngs on Black Friday, we will lose the boys and the men and go shopping on Wednesday.

‘Cause, dang, the muffin tops are cold.

Moms rock. 🙂

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Fashion plate

I hate shopping for clothes. I can never find what I’m looking for, and when I do it’s never in my size. And if it actually is in my size, then I can guarantee that it will shrink in the wash and I’ll suddenly have a 3/4 sleeve crop top where once was a lovely long sleeved hit below the hip shirt.

When I see budgets that have $300 a month or more for clothing, I’m just awed. Really? You find $300 worth of clothing you liked, that fit you, and that will hold up? Every month? Wow. When I hear of great finds at consignment stores or Goodwill/Salvation Army, I’m envious. Really? You found clothing you liked, that fits, and that will hold up? When I hear of women lending clothes to one another, I’m amazed. Really? You and your friend are the same size and have the same tastes?

Lucky.

So I put off the excursion as long as possible, until I can no longer go out in public with the gaping hole in the knee of my favorite jeans. The ones that fit these long legs, big hips/ass, and narrow waist. Until my lovely shirts are showing not only the muffin top, but the muffin top on top of the muffin top (note to self, lay off the Halloween candy…and do remember that wine is not calorie-free). Until the time comes that there is nothing weather and occasion appropriate for dressy situations. Until I have essentially nothing to wear, because the three outfits that work are all in the laundry, and I’m relegated to going out in public in yoga pants (that shrank in the wash), one of the suddenly shortened shirts, and a hoodie that fit once upon a time. I don’t carry the flood victim look well.

I’m bumping up against a clothing excursion and I’m not terribly thrilled. I don’t like going. I have no one to go with (I’d rather go naked than go with Tom and the boys), I rarely find what I’m looking for, and I’m tired of the cost vs. style vs. quality argument that goes on in my head. But it must be done; the muffin top look is scaring the children (won’t someone think of the children? Sob…). And my back is starting to hurt from trying to hunch down a bit to keep the shirt from riding up. (Note to clothing manufacturers: Would it kill you to add an extra inch of fabric? Yes? Then how about ensuring that the freaking fabric doesn’t shrink? ‘Cause that would make me a customer for life. Something to think about, ‘k? Smooches!)

So I’ll go sometime this month, around Tom’s travel schedule. And then the holidays will hit. And then nothing will fit. But I’ll have a lovely muffin top to show off!