Fashion Forward

A long time ago (just shy of three years) in a far away land (Texas), lived a woman who enjoyed wearing pajama pants (Care Bears. Blue. With Stars) out in public. (That's me!) She insisted on being "comfy" at all times, even if it meant looking like she deserved to be on PeopleofWalMart.com.

Then, one day, said lady went to the grocery store with her two very small children. There she ran into a girl she knew from high school. Not just any girl...but one of the cheerleaders.

Said cheerleader was dressed appropriate for the store. The PJ Lady was not. Cheerleader took one look at the two snotty children, the PJ-clad mama with wet hair, faked a half smile and ran.

It was a glorious stomping to my self-esteem, yet it didn't make me try to dress any better. Why? I don't know...perhaps I reveled in the fact that I looked like a Hobo, which may be totally politically incorrect to say, but true. Except most Hobos would probably take offense at my wearing the blue Care Bear PJs and relating myself to them.

Don't believe me? Here's one of my "fancier" outfits from the time. Note the "born to camp" shirt." Classy.




Exhibit A:

Then, one day, I realized that maybe people want to make friends with gals who get up, get showered and then get dressed! I started slowly. The whole shower thing in the morning was a total buzz kill, so I started waking up, putting on workout clothes and then taking my children to preschool.

Yes, I'd pretend to go work out. Then I'd go home and take a shower. No PJs in public! Yay me.

I've been taking baby steps over the past three or so years. I went from the Care Bears and fuzzy slippers to the gray "yoga pants," then the workout clothes. Eventually I managed to put on jeans! In public! Before bedtime!

Now I am proud to say that I can wake up in the morning and get dressed...all before 8AM. I'm making a concentrated effort to really try to look decent. The area I live in is considered a "small town" and you do run into a lot of the same people on a daily basis. That means no PJs out in public, no yoga pants, no fuzzy slippers or anything with a cartoon character on them!

I want these people to have me as their friend, no consider me as the possible babysitter.

And, well, it is working. I'm feeling good about myself. I ENJOY getting dressed in the mornings and I'm even enjoying taking part in The Working Closet's 30 days of fashion flickr pool.

The best part? I enjoy the fact that the majority of my clothes come from thrift stores! I enjoy finding clothes that fit me for a fraction of the cost.

Exhibit B:

Now, if only I could go back and time and tell myself to lay off those Oreos...I'd be set.

How to Go Crazy; A Photo Tutorial

How to have dirty floors: a picture tutorial.

First: Have your husband get laid off. Get him another job in a different state. Have two weeks to get there.

Second: Make sure your husband is very annoyed with your older house that you're selling. He's super tired of repairs and fixing things last minute so that you can get your money back. Make him insist on new McHouse with view of mountains.

Third: Find him a nice McHouse with view of mountains. Make sure McHouse includes cream colored tile and carpet.


Fourth: Make sure the state you move to is Arizona. Arizona lacks grass and has an abundance of dirt and sand. If your children are like normal children, they will like to go barefoot or wear sandals. That insures the dirt will NEVER come off their feet.



Fifth: Add in a dog. A large puppy. Make sure puppy gets bit by rattlesnake and has a big huge festering wound. Bring him outside with you, complete with festering wound, because you're worried he'll go and pee on that light colored carpet.


(Crotch licking is optional.)

Add all together. Bring inside house. Have heart attack on daily basis. If you're feeling really lucky? Hand the kids Halloween candy and let them drop wrappers on the floor as they watch Spongebob in a candy-induced haze. 

Betty Throws a Party, Forgets the Cupcakes

I think most adults, when it comes to food, has something they are known for. My husband's aunt, for example, makes a mean Jell-O that involves pie filling. Seriously, you'll eat it and wonder how you went so long without bathing yourself in its Jell-O-ey goodness.

Then there's the people who always bring chips to get-togethers...and really, I don't like those people. I also hate it when they bring store bought cupcakes....because, man, what a letdown. First, you're like "oh boy, cupcakes!" and then you find out that they came from the cheapo grocery store down the street and taste like shortening.

When I do cupcakes, I go all out....all out to the point where I like to take pictures and my husband says "let me guess, you're putting those on the Internet again, aren't you?" Why even make cupcakes if you're not going to put them on the Internet? WHY?

So, last weekend, the weekend before Halloween, we threw a Halloween Party. We've only been here since March, so it was a little iffy if we'd have enough people show up or if everyone would be creeped out by those new people who are inviting them over for brownies and cake.

We had tons of families show up, each with a gaggle of children, all ready to crawl through my husband's "haunted house" he set up in our homeschool room. I wish I could have pictures to show this to you...perhaps I can find some, but there's just no way to describe this beast that has taken over my house for the past two weeks.

Anyway, so the party is starting at 6pm...and I'm doing good. I'm making snacks, I'm making dinner, trying to get everything done. Then, at 4:40, my husband starts asking about this video I borrowed from the library. All it is is a fire. A campfire, to be exact. All 30 minutes of it is a video of a campfire...which is kind of cool and spooky. He can't find the video! Where is the video? Woman, what have you done with it?

As he's running around like crazy, I tell him to go BACK to the library and get the other copy. I doubt they've had a rush on crappy campfire videos and if he hurries, it will be his. Here's the deal: He's got 20 minutes to get there before they close.

On the way out, he calls me from his work cell phone and starts mumbling about pizzas and how I need to order them. I'm figuring, with all that I'm making, we need about two. He's thinking along the lines of nine.So I appease him and say "seven," though I finally change the number to five.

So, about 5:10, I'm starting to panic. The kitchen is a disaster. I'm not dressed (nor was I wearing deodorant-- hooray!) food is everywhere and I'm not ready. Then, I get a call from my husband. "YOU ORDERED FIVE PIZZAS!" he said in a panicked voice.

Dude, we're feeding a bunch of 4-8 year olds, not a football team. And, trust me, most of these kids have skinny mamas...they're not scarfing down boxes of pizzas.

I call my mom, who had just moved here the day before, in a panic. "COME! NOW! HELP! HELP!" Then she comes and I start drinking alcohol and wondering why we just didn't go and cater this whole thing. Don't people cater little Halloween get-togethers for kids? Huh?

At that point, it gets a little fuzzy, but I'm pretty sure I finally put on deodorant.

The party was excellent, even if I forgot to change and didn't have on makeup. (Hey! Only one horrible picture showed up on Facebook. Score!)

Finally, after everyone left and I surveyed the (not so bad) damage, I realized it...I didn't even make cupcakes. In fact, I hadn't baked ANYTHING from scratch.

I looked at my husband, who was busy scurbbing pots. "I guess we'll just have to have a Christmas party, then."

Cider flavored cupcakes, anyone?