Sometimes, you just can’t win.
This morning was one of Those Mornings — you know, where you think you’re cute and can get away with stuff, only for your self-indulgences to get you in trouble? (Oh, wait: you don’t have mornings like that? Well, humor me and follow along, anyway. #leolife)
So naturally, after hemming and hawing over the meager remnants of my closet, I wasn’t happy with what I pulled together. Despite that, I did think it was a good outfit — just not what I would have chosen if I’d done laundry over the weekend. And by the time I arrived at work fifteen (!!!) minutes late, my outfit was the least of my concerns.
Until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Oh, lordy. My already bad mood plummeted, and the day … just … dragged. Every time I went to the bathroom, I tried to fix something, to no avail. Toward the end of the day I had the bright (and yes, belated) idea of tucking in my blouse, and thought I looked cute … until I saw myself again. I looked like a marshmallow from the waistband up. Ew. I even tried moving my bun higher and lower, neater and messier, on my head. Nothing.
So, ladies and gentlemen, I have no OOTD photos to share with you, just relief that I’m in my pajamas and dismay that I left the house looking so awkward. Looking over my outfit elements again, I think the idea was good — floaty, cream colored blouse with shawl collar detail over blue Talbots ankle pants — but the specific items paired to make me look dumpy, frumpy, and much older than I actually am. Frankly, I don’t know how women who work full time do it! This is only my seventh consecutive day of work, and I’ve already run out of attractive and appropriate things to wear.