The term "give up" doesn't enter my vocabulary.* Ever. It just doesn't.
So, while loading Peanut into her carseat on Tuesday after our last stop in the "errand" train (drop ShankRabbit off at work, return CDs to library, mail project #2 for Craft Hope and the recall pieces), I happened to glance down at what I was wearing - baseball cap, glasses, no makeup, old t-shirt, my red "Guard" hoodie, jeans (the ones with the safety-pinned zipper) and beat-up flip flops. That's when it really hit me. I won't call it "giving up" as a) I don't use that term, remember? and b) I still have some clothing standards (e.g. I will never leave the house in pajama pants)...but...I've fallen into frumpydom.
When I was pregnant...heck, well before that even, I swore to myself this wouldn't happen. I was never a fashionista, but I made sure I was somewhat presentable on a daily basis. Now...well, now I'm just kind of "meh" looking.
ShankRabbit and I had a pretty good discussion about this. And we came to the conclusion that I'm not necessarily clueless about how to dress well, I just don't have the items to do so.
So, now that my body is pretty close to where I want it to be (I'm at my pre-pregnancy weight, but apparently I left my @ss in the delivery room, because I can't find it), I can start investing in staple wardrobe pieces...and go from there.
We'll just see how this goes.
Here is the frumpy me (I can't believe I'm actually posting photographic proof of this):
Back in the day, when I "tried":
Were you expecting a serious, "good" photo of me? BAHAHA. I just had to post this psychotic-looking photo from our honeymoon that I found in our archives.
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* I'm sure ShankRabbit would jump at the chance to say I "gave up" when it came to driving his MINI (stick shift). I know how to drive manual...but the power behind his car scared me. So I rarely ever drove it.
