Jean shopping = torture

I ripped my jeans right across both knees while on vacation in OKC.  In fact, my khaki capri's also bit the dust the next day.  They were my go-to pants.  If I wasn't wearing one, I was wearing the other.  Yes, it's true.  I only have (had) two pairs of decent pants.  I have some nylon gym pants - but they aren't exactly meant for cold weather.  I also have one pair of cotton jersey pants that are stretched out in all of the wrong places.  Those are my 'house-only' pants.

I bought those jeans and capris on the same day, at Kohl's, about 8 weeks after having Colin.  So they have been workhorses for almost two years.  I'm surprised that they lasted this long.  Neither pair fit very well either.  I tried to take my time and I even left the kids home with Dean so I could do a good job.  But it got to the point where I just said f*#k it, and threw them in the cart.  I hate clothes shopping.

I have a difficult body to work with.  Pregnancy has left it's mark, along with four years of keeping any available chair in the house company.  Finding pants that work in all the different zones (waist, hip, thighs, and so forth) is the biggest pain in the ass.  I used to have a go-to pair/style at the GAP.  That was about 10 years ago, so I am sure they don't have them anymore.

This is what I hate about jean shopping the most - the styles change so much, and not for the better.  I hate low-rise jeans.   The problem is, anyone thinks they can wear them.  They just can't.  They only look good on skinny people.  Then there are the pencil jeans.  Maybe I should start a cocaine habit so I can look cool too.  There are the heavily-embellished pocket jeans.  They look nice too - again, only on skinny people.  If you have a big butt - why would you want to attract attention to it?  (Okay - yes there are people out there like that, but I am not one of them).  Further more - think of the mayhem you could cause when you try to squeeze through tight places or a crowd of people.  Those jewels would snag on everything!  Then there are the boot-cut, bell-bottoms and etc.. issue.  I don't know what kinds of shoes to wear with these jeans.  All I know is, ratty old sneakers do not cut it.  But it is all I have.  I'm a 40 year-old woman who wears orthotics.  I can't prance around in boots.  Although I would love too, because they look really awesome.  I used to have a pair...and I miss them.  Until I am able to expand my shoe collection to beyond my ratty pair of tennis shoes and my Crocs which the Dr. says are a no-no, I'm stuck.  And that will be at the specialty-orthotic-type-shoes pricetag as well.

I just hate clothes shopping, period.  My identity has changed and I no longer know how to dress myself.  It feels really sad to say that, but it is true.  We are homeschoolers.  I don't have a professional job anymore, so those outfits are getting picked-off left and right from my side of the closet.  I am a different size.  That means a whole other portion of my available wardrobe is off-limits.  I don't want to be lazy and wear pajama pants all day, yet I do want to be comfortable.  Something that lets me get down on the floor to play with the kids (which is how the jeans ripped in the first place) yet look presentable enough to go out into the world.

Fly Lady sent out an essay the other day about how to take care of yourself.  She said that you can spot the SHE's (Sidetracked Home Executive) from a mile away.  They are the moms whose children look nice.  The kids' clothes are clean, wrinkle-free, their outfits match, their hair is done... and then you look at the mom.  Disheveled.  Hair pulled into a ponytail.  Wrinkled clothes...with stains.  Yep.  That's me alright!  Each and every day I look like a wrecking ball gave me a smooch.  I have the same four shirts that I rotate around.  Each and every one has a stain or a small tear somewhere.  I wear the same ratty-pill-ridden brown sweater.  My best asset is my hair, and 99.9% of the time I wear it twisted up into a bun because it's fast and out of the way.

It's different now, how I feel about myself.  It's not that I stopped caring (although I look like it), I just don't take the time and energy to put much effort into it.  I've grown used to thinking that there is too much else in life to do than worry about how I look.  Which is sad.  Sad for my family (especially my husband).

It only effects me once-in-awhile.  I get together with friends for a night out, and I instantly feel self-conscious.  They all look very nice and trendy, and I feel dowdy and old-maidish.  Nobody makes me feel like that but myself, and why should I be mean to myself?

So I am taking Fly Lady's advice.  I can remember, before marriage and kids, how much I did care about my appearance.  I spent time on myself every day, and it wasn't like it was god-awful.  This isn't about making sure you don't leave the house without lipstick.  It is more about pampering.  Taking the time to properly take care of yourself.  Using nail-clippers instead of chewing on your nails.  Wearing a favorite pair of earrings.  Using perfume.  Socks and shoes instead of slippers.  Floss.

So tonight I am going jean shopping.  Woo-hoo!  I am going with the mind-set that it will not be torture.  I will not look at the other women that might be there and feel bad about myself.  My kids tell me I am pretty, and that is good enough for me.