Friday, September 9, 2016

How do I look?

It's a dangerous question to ask when you live with all boys. Even more dangerous when you already know that you are pushing the boundaries of fashion pulling out a ten-year-old skirt and wedge sandals that you accidentally bought in the Junior Department.

I don't own a proper bra anymore because, well just because. I could own one but I don't like shopping and bra shopping seems even more hideous than regular clothes shopping. Also because most of what I have purchased in the last thirteen years since my children were born was an after thought at Target.

Even though I have started working part-time there was not a huge need to add to my wardrobe and certainly not anything all fancy nancy.  I work in a basement! Usually without human interaction at all so I guess you say I'm channeling Bob Cratchit in work and fashion.

That won't fly tonight though as all four of us from work are being treated to dinner by the boss at one of the nicest restaurants in the midwest. I've been quietly fretting over this all day but seeing as I had other more important things to do, like. Oh hell! I was just to lazy to go to TJ Maxx and find something.

So here it is zero hour and I have got to get out the door.  I've had my hair up, then down, then half up and half down.  I tried to put on make-up but it's been so long my eye shadow is too heavy and how was I suppose to know that was not for my eyebrows? Seriously, I've changed six times I still look like a very old very sad hooker.

I made the mistake of asking the boys, "How do I look?" to which they politely replied....You look beautiful Mom. Their wives will thank me.

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