I have an all day work meeting on Wednesday and yet I have so few work-appropriate clothes left in my closet that 1) fit, 2) aren’t all dusty/stretched out/bleached on the shoulders from hanging too long, and 3) aren’t WAY out of style, so, you know, finding a nice outfit can be a challenge. (Plus, you remember that I hate work clothes, right? Did them too many years. However, fashionista shit is OK. (Also, I get easily bored so even if I came up with nice outfits for weeks on end for my one-day-in-the-office-per-week stint I’m not going to *psshhh* repeat! Because then I would be me boring myself. (Yes, I know no one else would notice.))) Anyway, I grabbed a shirt for a test-wear that I’d forgotten I bought well before pregnancy (so that would be like, what? placing it in the realm of early 2000s? When all the GAP models were still showing their navels everywhere?) threw it on, reminiscing about how cute this top used to look, like that one time I wore it to go see Dave Chappelle pre-Comedy Channel era (OK, granted, it was more a “club” top… being black and mod/lace and a little clingy and somewhat see-through but trust me, with a nice tank underneath and a good jacket I could totally make it work-appropriate. Kind of.) and…
Like I stole clothes from a 12-year old.
Like the Hulk busting out in the after-hours disco.
Like I’m a camel toe away from cougars-ville.
Not quite the office look I’m going for.
(Though, I did briefly feel quite busty (for a gal without cleavage).)
– the weirdgirl