There is no "moral of the story" and no happy photos to go along with this post, so you might as well just click out.
...Orrrr keep reading, if you dare.
I've never been known to be fashionable/trendy/stylish/super cute and/or any slash all of the above [as evidenced in this post where I accidentally discovered I'd been wearing the lone green shirt in my closet x 3 or 4 years in a row and this post when I realized a little too late that I didn't have a damn thing to wear to Easter Vigil Mass ...and in all reality, the list goes on and on but I'll rest my link-happy case primarily for your sanity]. The problem has roller-coastered even more over the last two years as my body has grown accustomed to major weight fluctuation [gaining and losing then losing some more from pregnancy + puking, pregnancy + not-puking, postpartum, and extended postpartum while continuing to breastfeed -- holy whoa]. Add a) allllll 'dat ^^ to the fact that b) I hate to shop and figuratively [but also sort of literally] shrivel down and melt into the floor when entering a mall and c) I'm a penny pincher and would sort of rather pick up a hand-me-down wristlet full of maggots than drop an entire paycheck on a Coach clutch [but in the same breath, I don't actually even own a "big" purse and will definitely die some day with a life fully lived as a man with boobs] and you see there's a complex issue with a not-simple solution.
It's super real. ^^
Point made? Oh, not yet?
Welp, haven't bought a new pair of [non-maternity] jeans since junior year of college. New shoes and jewelry? Forget aboooou-dit. Just about popped the stitching in my scrubs when jumping up and down to get them on during the last trimester of pregnancy, because I didn't want to buy a ton of 3XL scrubs to wear for "just a few weeks..." Then I shall add that Brian has been shaking his head in embarrassment for a while now as I continue to wear high school post-prom T-shirts [actually, he has finally accepted them as my PJs but has forbidden me of wearing them to Target where he will be seen next to me. His luscious locks are budding a few gray hairs and my best guess is that he doesn't want to be mistaken for a pedophile or a high school prom girl's father instead of ...well, my husband. ...Not saying that I look all that young or anything, but you can see his point.]? A few notches down on the still-bad list are all my SLU School of Nursing T's and hoodies and baggy sweatpants, but luckily most those are still riding strong. Fo' real though, this sounds like funny and light-hearted embellishing, but it's bad guys. It's bad!!!
Last week after throwing away a pair of hole-filled underwear from 8th grade [this isn't a joke at all so go ahead and laugh away; they were extremely well loved!!], I was standing in my closet looking for an outfit to wear to a girls' night out to celebrate my birthday..............................
And can you predict? ...Surely you can after the large line of dots. ^^ ;)
There was NOTHING.
A couple cute shirts but no pants; a couple cute pants that didn't match any shirts. One pair of wedges that couldn't quite tie together any of the said mismatched shirts with pants. <-- And beyond that? Nada.
So naturally I had a mini-meltdown and psycho-wife-wigged out on Brian because that's what women do sometimes [though it was definitely in a high school prom girl-ish sort of way]...
...And my mini, I mean...
Not mini.
Rawrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Hear me rawr from wherever you are! I've known for a long time that I am suuuuuper sub-par when it comes to beauty products and fashion trends and suave styles and, well, all things feminine; but even I'M getting sick of the sour situation lately! Never anything to wear. Ever. Always looking like a homeless hobo. Always.
So! So very surprisingly, there was actually a quick fix:
Mother Resa to the rescue!!!
She is all things I am not, and for that I will be forever grateful! But mainly for this post's concern: #fashionista #milf #hotmamaontheloose :) In standing behind the scenes and watching my wardrobe problem snowball since I flew out of her nest in 2007, she [and Dad] gave me the PERFECT birthday gift: a "coupon book" full of gift cards to all the trendy stores! Zomggg!
But as aforementioned, I hate shopping too. So ALSO part of the birthday gift was her generous chauffeur and shopping assistance! And it went a little like this: Brian wrangled Harper in for the day so we could have an afternoon out alone, Resa picked Bridget up, Resa bought Bridget a Starbucks coffee to get her in a good mood, Resa drove Bridget to the stores and helped her pick out clothes and jewelry and shoes and whattttttttttttt (!!!!!); before we knew it, the sun was setting and Resa and Bridget had a trunk full of shopping bags full of new clothes complete outfits to stock Bridget's closet with. Add a ton of birthday gift cards + a nurse's paycheck [or three] + a super fun-filled, successful day with my sweet momma, and:
HALLELUJAH, HALLELUJAH, AMENNN, IT'S A MIRACLE!!!
Omg!
Seriously, oh my gawddddd.
I have outfits! Shirts and pants to wear together! Not scrubs or sweatpants! And jewelry and shoes!
I can go on a date with Brian and make him remember why he said yes in the first place!
I can attend the next happy hour with mah girls and not be the only raggedy runt of the group!
Booyah, babyyy.
This is Christmas in May! ...Or maybe just an extension of the best birthday ever.
Thank you, Momma!!!
But suriouslyyyyy:
