Category: Fashion Stuff

The Story of the Wedding Dress

Oh, the wedding dress. I bought it before Hubbin had even proposed; MONTHS before he’d proposed, actually. I went with a friend just to be silly, and there it was; totally different than I ever thought I’d wear, and on a clearance rack. I grabbed it along with a few others, and started trying on dresses.

The very effeminate man working in the boutique that day made the obligatory oohs and aahs until I stepped out in The Dress, and he clasped his hands over his mouth and said “Oh honey, that’s the one”. And it was…it SO was the one. I bought it that day. I knew Hubbin would propose one day, and I knew that was my dress.

There wasn't any point in getting white; my kid was there, the jig was up.

There wasn’t any point in getting white; my kid was there, the jig was up.

It hung in the closet, and that cold Thanksgiving night, Hubbin proposed. I gazed at my ring and peeked at my dress, and couldn’t wait for the day I would wear it.

That isn’t it, y’all. You have to click here to read the rest!

Camp Time!

Do y’all remember last year when we took The Oldest One to camp? I had just started this new fashion venture, right, and I put together this fabulous outfit that I thought looked awesome. Looking back, I’m not sure if my fashion sense has evolved, or if fashion in general has, but I wore this:

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You can read about it by clicking here; this outfit decision nearly cost my my life, in the middle of one of the worst heat waves to hit in decades.

So, we are going back, bringing The Oldest One back yet again this year. I dressed differently this year; a lot different.

I paired a half-sleeve, navy and white striped shirt from Love Culture that set me back a mere $7, with mint green shorts from J. Crew ($8, thank you very much, warehouse sale), and mint sandals from Call it Spring, and apparent branch off of Aldo. FYI, I don’t get paid or free stuff for this because I, 1. Am not that important, 2. No one knows me, and 3. Lemme know if you know how to get people to do that, because I would totally be into that. I will wear your donated clothes. And I won’t even go back on sabbatical.

That isn’t it, y’all. You have to click here to read the rest!

Gee thanks.

So I stopped called The Little One “The Little Jerk” because I didn’t want people to think I actually think kids are jerks, let alone my own kid.

This morning’s experience convinces me to perhaps rethink that, though. This morning, as I was getting out of the shower, she came into the bathroom and stood there pointing at me and SCREAMING “EWWWW!” no less than 10 times.

I may have stooped to her level when I hollered “IT’S YOUR FAULT I LOOK LIKE THIS!” before evacuating her from the bathroom.

Luckily she had no idea what I was saying. And she had no room to talk, either; with her freshly washed hair before bed and the scowl on her face, she looked just like Nick Nolte’s mugshot.

Today’s thought of the day? May the rest of you bear children that aren’t horrified at the sight of you.

The Great Ped Egg Incident of 2008

There have been several times that I was unnecessarily injured in the line of beauty, though little can even hold a candle to what I and my friends refer to as The Great Ped Egg Incident of 2008. I got a Ped Egg because I had such high hopes at how beautiful my feet could be. I don’t do pedicures (I’ve had maybe 3 my whole life), so I thought this would be such a great and cheap way to make my feet ready for the summer. I would be ready to take on the world, y’all.

I soaked my feet beforehand, and got to egging. Instantly, I was simultaneously hooked and disgusted. The shavings were falling everywhere. After a quick google search, I realized I was doing it upside down. Once I turned it rightside up, we were good to go. And go we did. I put on Grey’s Anatomy and watched as Addison came back and put the heart back inside a baby (shocking, since that character puts the heart in nothing, but I digress). Fascinated, I continued through much of Must See TV until the news came on.

That isn’t it, y’all. You have to click here to read the rest!

The Trip – Part 1

This mere 24 hour trip was so traumatizing that I haven’t even been able to talk about it for days. And no kidding, as I was writing that sentence, one of the baby’s toys started singing and no one is here but me. It was THAT bad.

Since we had to pick up the oldest kid from camp on Saturday morning, which was already 3 hours away, I planned a shopping trip for Friday evening after we got off work, hitting up a mall on our way and then crashing with friends. Hubbin wanted to get a hotel room, which I was not receptive to, as I wanted to save that $90 for more clothes a rainy day. Normally, going to the camp is a straight line. However, adding in the mall trip made it a triangle, because it was significantly out of the way.

See?

One thing to note is that my husband is notorious for underestimating the amount of time it takes to get anywhere to avoid hearing me complain. And while it’s true that at times, I whine about time, it’s really nothing in comparison to how pissed I get when it takes way longer than he says.

That isn’t it, y’all. You have to click here to read the rest!

Becoming a Lady?

Ok, so for most of my life, my style has been somewhere between “that’s a nice skirt” and the uncomfortable “um…is that shirt missing buttons?” But now that I’ve pretty much remade my whole house, I’m bored.

After spending hours drooling over the classic styles featured on KateSpadeGirl (go look, it’s an awesome blog!), I decided that it was time to redo my style; maybe more lady, less tramp. And funny enough? It’s working! I got a ton of compliments the other day when I wore my new favorite dress. So, I bottled up all my confidence, and wore a super cute outfit to a work function that consisted of navy H&M shorts, an adorable kelly green satin ruffled shirt from NY&CO, and a navy cardigan. Adorable. I loved it.

The point of this story is to tell you that even if you dress a girl in an adorable outfit, it doesn’t stop there. You also have to teach her how to sit.

That isn’t it, y’all. You have to click here to read the rest!