Friday, February 12, 2010
I've spent a lot of time "hiding" behind outfits that would be far more appropriate for a teenaged boy, or at least Bruce Vilanch.
Oversized t-shirts that hide my belly (not) and a variety of colors of jeans. Complete the outfit with the socks + birkenstocks and there you have my regular attire. (OK, sometimes, if I'm feeling really dressy, I'll wear knee-high leggs with those birkies. Oh, and did I mention that since the dog chewed the bows of my glasses, I have covered the hurty parts with hello kitty bandaids? I decided a year ago to try to look a bit more my age. I bought a bunch of blouses, but since they had to go around my shameful middle, I bought sizes so big that the ends of the sleeves completely covered my hands and would flap in the breeze as I walked. When I lost all the weight (last time) I gave the blouses to a tall friend who didn't look like flipper-hands girl in them, and wore my husband's t shirts. Now I'm in-between -- don't want to be flipper-hands girl, and I don't want to wear my ralphie-from-the-simpsons-eati
ng-paste shirt everywhere, either. I have lots of cute blouses for when I'm 30-40 lbs. lighter, but until then, oh -- hey -- can I borrow your shirt, Bruce??