I was late for work the other day.

No big deal since I’m self employed and I didn’t have a client.

But it was one of those mornings. You know the ones. 

It started as normal. I woke up and thanked the good Lord for keeping me here one more day. 

I, then, made all my necessary posts….Facebook and, business, personal, non necessary,…then to Pinterest for an outfit pinspiration of sorts.

This cold Canadian winter really ruins my outfit buzz. I’d love to wear that cute little “layered” outfit when I select WINTER OUTFIT as an option!! I think Pinterest needs instructions and rules. If you tag it wrong it’s not accepted. Done! I’ve been having a hard time finding what I want. Pretty sure my brain can’t put into words what my eyes want to see. Mismatched, no, eclectic, no, odd, pattern play, hot mess….NO, NO!!

Nothing I tried on from my closet was my friend. It might have been due to the sheer fact that my clothing is in piles on the floor, in a dim lit room, that’s possibly as cold as outside. 

Repeated trips up and down stairs to the mirror.

So I stopped, thought nothing’s working because my hair and makeup aren’t done. Ever had that?

So down I go again. I start applying my makeup like I do every day. Same way. I haven’t pulled anything new and fancy up from YouTube. No winged eyeliner or smoky glitter look tutorial. But for some reason or another it just wasn’t working. I looked like I had gone on a trip and I don’t mean to like Florida. It was bad!! So after one hideous eye, I just stopped and did my hair. 

I’m a blow dry and go gal but lately after a few hours my hair is angry. Like a kid, who has played outside all day, with a toque on and quite possibly hasn’t brushed it in days. Static, fly always, separated hunks. What gives?? I still don’t apply any product, blow dry and cry. I give up. Sometimes I just want to grab my lounge wear, a baileys with a splash of coffee and go back to bed! Screw it! I’m allowed these days. Everyone is! Don’t ever feel guilty about your emotions. Someone may have it worse than you but that doesn’t mean you can’t cry about an “ugly” day.

So truth time. I currently have 14 pairs of jeans that don’t fit. They are all one to two sizes smaller than I currently am. No big deal. Just need to stop the wine drinking that calms my nervous after a long day….some people would use the term “functioning alcoholic” loosely…not out loud, but us moms nod our heads in agreement. I’d also have to stop eating cheese. Might be a problem when my household consumes the mega brick every two days. I once heard you should only have a portion of cheese the size of a die…if you mean the fuzzy kind hanging from the mirror in your 1959 Studebaker Lark, then yes I indulge in your cheese limitations. 

I also have an array of tops that just don’t fit right. I have a elongated torso. I always dreamed of the day when I could be one of those fancy girls that tuck their shirt in to show their belt. It’s not happening. I joke about the “just one crunchie” theory I have but let’s be honest, one clearly isn’t cutting it. I also have the inability to wear some “dresses”. I laugh at the length. I have several “dresses” that I wouldn’t dare wear without leggings! Dresses aren’t suppose to reveal my lady garden or those triangle lines that form under my buttocks when I’ve reached my desired skin colour from fake baking.  So my “dresses” are now tops. 

I suffered from lanky in school. Do you know that term? Lanky. It’s not pleasant. Lanky. It sounds terrible. Stringy and awkward would’ve been better. Only thing lanky on me now is my…well..nothing. The metabolism snatcher, also known as my high school principal, soul sucked that from me when I shook his hand at graduation! I thought I was lanky still in college but I later found out I needed glasses, literally, and all thoughts of lanky came to a disturbing and embarrassing end!

But here’s what I do know. Clothes, thank sweet baby Jesus, come in all sizes!!! I’m done trying to not drink my wine or eat my cheese to fit into the past. I’m gonna go out, embrace my happiness and try on other clothes. So the number some designer threw on there isn’t what I really want to see when I strip naked and its laying there, on the floor, starring at me, reminding me I’m not lanky. Whatever! Be happy with today! You’re here aren’t you?

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