Finding attractive clothing is difficult for me. Part of the problem is that by the time I get to shop by myself the only places open are superstores. Badly interpreted trends and cheap cotton abounds at the local TJ Max or Target. But the biggest problem is that if I'm lucky enough to find an outfit that makes my body look good, I will completely overlook just about any bad fashion detail. “Yea, so the shirt says ‘diva mommy’ but look at how great it makes my tits look!”.
When I watched Brittany Spears being interviewed by Matt Lauer I realized at once what had happened. She put on her clothing and selectively looked at herself. “Wow, my legs look fantastic in this skirt!”, completely disregarding that it was indeed the same denim miniskirt that was banned from retail in 1987.
Most recently, I bought a tie dyed tee shirt. Most people would stop at tie dye. But my foggy fashion vision saw only that the colors were black, brown and cream - thus within my acceptable palette. The cotton was also nice and thick so any back fat would be skimmed over and rendered unnoticeable. What I failed to recognize was that there was a starburst of tie-dye swirling out from my right breast. And that's not even the good one. This revelation came after I went to freshen up at the movie theatre. I put on my lip-gloss, stepped back and sonofabitch noticed the swirl of cream and brown orbiting my knocker.
Pants are especially hard for me and I blame it all on Kmart. As a kid we didn't have much money for clothing and so we bypassed the trendier Fashionation for Blue Light Specials. At the time darkly colored denim jeans with yellow stitching, a la Gloria Vanderbilt, were all the rage. So imagine my excitement when mom came home with several pairs for me. But like all designer knockoffs there is often one detail that lets the world know this isn't the real thing. For me it was a large, bright, yellow embroidered lemon that took up the entire back pocket and the words "Lemon Fizz" stitched in shiny silver thread angling down my thigh. That's right, the rest of my 5th grade year I was known as Fizz.
I believe this flashback, coupled with the fact that I'm packing some serious badunkadunk after birthing two kids, makes me loathe to turn around and view the back package when trying on pants. Looks awesome from the front, side view not bad either. Wrap it up! Sure enough, there will inevitably be some sort of stone wash that highlights my large ass with horizontal white streaks.
Lately, I've been playing it safe and sticking to the suburban mom uniform. Capris, solid tee shirt, sporty sandals and some piece of jewelry that attempts to add some original style. If I were trying to avoid being spotted in a lineup this would be a great strategy, since most of the Chicagoland moms are wearing the exact same thing.
But lately I have been yearning to update my clothing, assfat be damned. So if you see a stunned, tired looking lady walking around Wal-Mart around 9 PM with some “fancy” capris in her arms for christsakes flag me down and grab the sparkly pants. Put a Diet Dr. Pepper in my hand and slip the number of your sitter in my pocket so I can get myself to a store that doesn’t allow tapered pants or embroidered 4th of July flags on their clothing.