You know how the general public mostly forgives women for looking like a hot mess when they're also toting a little baby around with them? Instead of thinking, "Wow, that lady has terrible personal hygiene and looks like she bought her clothes at a yardsale in 1992. What's wrong with her?" They think, "Poor thing, she probably hasn't had a wink of sleep or a shower because she's raising our future. And it's understandable that she's still wearing her maternity clothes, which are covered in spit-up and baby pee. But look at her adorable new baby!"
Well, now that Declan is five months old, and has reached the size of a toddler, I'm starting to doubt that I can use that excuse anymore. As much as I love my multiple pairs of stretched out yoga pants, it's time to confine them to the house. Along with my paint stained t-shirts and my worn-so-thin-that-I-can-feel-the-texture-of-the-sidewalk flipflops.
I felt stylish today for the first time in a while. I mean, I've made honorable attempts at putting together outfits, but it's tough when you have to consider the lactating boobs (some tops don't fit when they're empty, others don't fit when they're full), the easy access for nursing (must have a low neckline that can be pulled down, otherwise I have to wear something under it), the squishy belly (yes, still) and whether or not I've shaved my legs that morning. All of these combined with ever-changing weather and my poor laundry skills make for a very limited wardrobe.
But today, thanks to a very generous gift from Marcie and some inspiration from my new hobby, browsing style and design blogs, I put together an outfit. I put on jewelry. I brushed my hair! I wore cute shoes. I put on perfume. And I walked to the grocery store with a little more pep in my step because I knew that people wouldn't be wondering why I smelled so funny or why my boobs were totally hanging out.