Category Archives: Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby
“I haven’t blogged lately,” I lament to Poof over my Benedict Timothy from Brandywine’s. It’s corned beef hash covered with eggs covered with Hollandaise sauce and it’s 200% delicious.
Poof is noshing on an omelette, which she’s affectionately named “n-omlette.”
“Blog about today,” she tells me. We’re dressed up to do photos for her fashion blog, which is our Tuesday/Thursday Mommy day routine. Sometimes it feels good to get out of the yoga pants. “Blog about wearing white after Labor Day.”
“But wearing white after Labor Day isn’t funny!” I argue. “White pants aren’t funny, unless you know the unlucky person who looks like Moses parted the red sea in her pants. And with my luck, it would be me, which means it wouldn’t be funny to me, so I wouldn’t want to blog it.”
We pause for a moment of silence – to all those women who don’t know when their TOM is and have ruined a good pair of white pants.
Post breakfast, Poof takes a photo of me trying to balance on a curb.
I’m failing, for one thing, for another, I realize my pants aren’t even white-white. The tank top I’m wearing is definitely white, but the jeans are just a shade or two off. They’re cream. Or ecru. Or off-white. Or…
“I’d call them more of a winter white,” Poof tells me.
“So they’d could be funny. If you happened to lose me in the snow,” I sigh.
“That’s why you should probably wear them after Labor Day.” Poof tells me.
Well. I’m silent. I have no response.
Touche, Poof. Touche.
I’ve heard there’s a TV show by this name, but considering that we haven’t had cable at my house since about 2009, I wouldn’t really know. What I do know, however, is that getting dressed is such a pain in the ass.
Work in 16 minutes. Still no pants. #HappyFriday
— Laura Anne (@LA_theGirl) July 3, 2013
Poof, SoccerGirl, and I decided last week to go out to eat. Which was a great idea. So great, that we decided we should dress nicely and wear heels since we barely ever get to do that (Except for Poof because she’s a fashion blogger and stuff). But seriously. I’m always in scrubs.
I wanted some damn high heels on my feet.
At least, I did, until it came down to D-Day.
Poof texted me a number of times throughout the day asking what I was wearing.
I tried to think of my closet and envision what I could wear, but then my head started to hurt because I hated everything single thing in it.
Poof: Did you decide what you’re wearing?
L.A.: No. I think I’m just going to go naked.
L.A.: I’m literally in underwear. This isn’t even allowed in public.
Poof: I’m going to burn my whole closet.
L.A.: OH. I want to do that too.
Poof: Did you know you can burn Doritos as kindling? And it makes multi-colored fire?
L.A.: I have heard that. We should burn our clothes AND Doritos. It’ll be a big colorful fire.
Poof: But what are you going to wear tonight?
A timeline of my evening before going out.
6:21 pm: Get home from work. Acknowledge I will not wear scrubs to dinner. Take off scrubs.
6:23 pm: Glare at closet.
6:25 pm: Candy Crush marathon.
6:35 pm: Above conversation with Poof. More angry glaring at closet.
6:41 pm: Try on outfit 1.
6:43 pm: Outfit 2.
6:45 pm: Outfit 3.
6:52 pm: Outfits 6, 7, and 20394803948.
7:00 pm: Stare at floor in dismay.
7:01 pm: Cry because I don’t know why I have so much laundry to do.
7:03 pm: Put on outfit. Hate it. Leave bedroom.
7:05 pm: Walk out door. Lock door. Realize I have no make up on and have not done hair.
7:05 and 30 seconds pm: Decide I’ve come too far.
7:10: Officially leave. Decide to later write blog. Decide to probably not do laundry.
7:30 pm: Don’t worry. We were both clothed and complete ladies in public.
Helllooooooo ❤ pic.twitter.com/N1UgNnMOyB
— Jenna (@hey_itsjenna) June 21, 2013
10:21 pm: Mostly.
— Laura Anne (@LA_theGirl) June 21, 2013
Oh, and fast forward a week. Repeat process.
Same story. Different event.
P.S. You can for real see exactly what Poof wore. Here it is.
- I Have Nothing to Wear: Part One (ninabadzin.com)
- How To Get Dressed in the Morning: Time-Saving Tips (stylecaster.com)
Training for my 10 mile run and going to Zumba have really started to give me results for my physique. I don’t look like a body builder, but I feel like a much healthier person.
There is only one part of my body that hasn’t had much transformation because of working out. And really hasn’t since 5th grade.
People… that would be my chest.
I’ve never been part of itty bitty titty committee and I should be feel blessed, but there are down falls to having a chest.
Table cloth or a shirt…
I’m a petite person except for my chest. Most cases I have to purchase a size bigger to give my two chest roommates space to breath. Having to make this accommodation makes me look like I’m wearing a table cloth instead of an actual t-shirt. The table cloth curse also occurs, I do not own a white shirt that doesn’t have a stain on the chest area. It never fails… I put on a shirt and ten minutes later a stain magically appears on my chest shelf.
I’ve been running 3 times week to get ready for my race, but I have to plan my laundry days so I have enough clean sports bras. Ladies with chests don’t have the luxury to run free. It’s could turn into a disaster. If I don’t strap down my precious cargo I could injure myself. Things could start flying around uncontrollably, hitting me in the face.
Victoria does have a secret…
It’s slim picking when I go bra shopping. Since I don’t have to fake it to make it, I don’t get the choice of the colorful fun bras at Vikki’s. I get stuck with three choices: white, tan and black. The fun bras usually have too much padding, giving too much push-up. If I were to risk wearing the bright colorful bra with padding, I could endanger myself by being suffocated with my two attached boulders. I like breathing so I stick with the bland pickings.
Long live the bigg girls.
A few new blogs that I’ve been reading have done this post where they take the contents of their purse, and artfully display what’s in it, and it’s actually very fascinating to me.
I’m like…wow. They’re so organized. Their purses are so cute. They carry around very little. Meanwhile, I’m walking around with so much stuff that I could get kidnapped and be fine for the next few days by the amount of stuff I carry around.
Their blogs are aptly titled: What’s in my bag: Vacation/School/Uni/Etc Edition.
So, after some hemming and hawing I decided to do my own post of this.
Mine will be aptly titled:
What’s in my bag: I’m a hoarder Edition
Or maybe: What’s in my bag: Why I have back problems edition.
This is what is in my purse in no particular order.
- Matching wallet — I’m particular. I like my bra to match my underwear. I like my wallet to match my purse.
- Random receipts — because a trash can is always too far away.
- #LettersFromLA — if I’m out shopping, or not shopping, or doing something that’s not shopping while I’m actually really shopping and see something kitschy that I want to mail to a pen pal, I’ll throw it in my purse to remind me to mail it. And then probably forget about it.
- Guitar picks — because the guitar just didn’t fit in the bag.
- Ticket Stubs — I always say that I’ll scrapbook things like this so I save them. Plus, they’re fun to mail off sometimes.
- Make up — when I say make up, I mean “lots of chapstick because I forget I already had one in my bag.”
- Sunglasses — Multiple pairs. See make up.
- Cameras — Multiple cameras, multiple medias.
- Hockey laces — just because.
- ALSO: snacks, a blue power ranger, my missing set of spare keys, mittens, my kid’s hat, passport pictures, and A DOLLAR, GUYS. I FOUND A DOLLAR.
I’d like to re-title this post. L.A. CLEANS OUT HER PURSE. MISSING PERSON FOUND AT THE BOTTOM.
*Yes, my uterus also applies, as I have had a small child basically growing** in my uterus.
**Full-on growing. Not basically growing. Growing babies is hard.
So I just have to state how amazing my best friend/co-blogger really is. I’m so happy that I have her in my life to keep me sane and to keep our blog alive and well. Bravo, L.A.!!!
I apologize for my absence. Life gets going for me and I get writers block, making it hard to keep in touch.
This morning I received some snail mail from the Secretary of State. The state of Michigan politely reminded me that I’m turning 25 on December 23rd, and my driver’s license will expire. I do wonder if I have to renew since the world is ending on the 22nd. I will have to call customer service and ask. Maybe they have the answer on the ‘Frequently asked Questions’ section of their website.
I have been alive for a quarter of a century. Such a monumental moment. I have reached my quarter life crisis. How should I deal with this dilemma? Buy a sport car? Date a younger man? Get hair plugs?
No, none of these excite me so I decided to list the 25 things I have learned by the age of 25. Drum roll, please….
- A smile can get you a long way.
- If a guy says others think he is an asshole, then he is an asshole.
- Never regret paying for an expensive pair of jeans. No one will ever complain that your butt looks too good when wearing them.
- Pay attention to how a guy treats his mom. He will treat you the same way.
- Love as hard as you can. And never regret it.
- Nothing is ever final in life.
- Always be overdressed.
- Enter every room like you’re in technicolor.
- Find your signature perfume.
- Write down your goals. You will complete them if you do.
- Quit the job you hate. You didn’t want to be there anyways.
- Find a reason to laugh at the bad moments in your life, then you will only have good memories in your mind.
- You can live without the guy you thought you couldn’t. And you will be happier that you did.
- Kill your competition with kindness.
- Don’t date him if doesn’t tell you that you look nice on the first date.
- Asking questions is the most intelligent thing you can do for yourself.
- Always step out of your comfort zone. The mystery is the best part.
- Don’t date him if he doesn’t make you laugh.
- Your best friends are your true soulmates.
- Time is an enemy and a friend. Accept it.
- Start a dance floor wherever you go.
- Laugh at yourself before others can.
- Having a good hair day is like winning the lottery.
- Always apply more mascara.
- Look at the world differently each day.
After writing this list, I think I have found inner peace if the world does supposedly end on the 22nd of the December.
I’m ready to celebrate my life at the age 25. Who wants to join my party? But, I refuse to scream YOLO…