What Not to Wear

Posted on | February 19, 2010 | 5 Comments

I’ve never been on What Not To Wear, I haven’t even watched it in several years (does it still come on?) … but I feel like if I were ever on, it would go something like this:

Wow, Stacy. Have we got our work cut out for us today.

I know, Clinton. Today’s unfortunate victim… I mean unfortunate dresser was nominated by not one person, not two people, but EVERYONE who knows her.
Oh snap. Seriously?
Seriously. Let’s go check out the video of this tragic, tragic Momma…
Cue montage of … me. Yesterday. Today. And everyday. Seriously, when did this happen to me? Although I’ll draw the line at saying I was ever “trendy,” I was at least acceptable, once. More importantly, I was once clean.

Stacy, I don’t mean to be negative, here, but will it be possible to salvage this trainwreck?
I don’t know, Clinton. I’ve never seen anyone this bad. She hasn’t worn her hair in any way except in a low pony tail/bun since early 2009. I don’t know if her hair dryer even works any more. Let’s see what she’s doing now…


Stacy. Is that… could it be… surely it’s not.
Yes. Clinton. I hate it as much as you do and I wish it weren’t so. But, that is poop on her pants. Let’s just hope it’s not her own.

Yeah. Yesterday morning I realized J has outgrown his Size 2 diapers. He was sitting in my lap when I felt a little… wetness. I moved him and realized “uh oh” he’s peed out of his diaper and a little got on my pants. Now pre-baby I would have changed. These days? I ran a wipe over the spot, shrugged my shoulders, and went on my merry way. It was only later, when I was sitting in a closed door room with two partners, that I realized it was, indeed, not pee on my pants. The stench was unmistakable. The partner’s office smelled like I had shat a pile in the back corner. And who do you blame that on in that situation. You can’t really look around the room like “Where’s the pile of shit?” You have to just sit there calmly and when the other people start to look a little worried, you shrug and say “Oh. I think that smell is me. Maybe J peed on me this morning.” Because, yeah, I still said pee. I’m not so far gone that I freely admit it’s poop. Come on though. They know it’s poop. I know it’s poop. It’s just not something you say.

Clinton, I can’t imagine there’s anything we can do for her. She realized there was poop on her pants and … she wore them anyway.
Not only that, but Stacy, she topped off the outfit with a black cardigan… normally a recommended wardrobe accessory, but that cardigan has *gagging noise* spit up. On the shoulder. Clearly. What is wrong with her?

As if it weren’t bad enough to have poop on my pants, J found it necessary to mark me even more with a violent “outburst” of nasty, mucousy spit up just as I said goodbye at daycare. What did I do? Went on to work. If I wasn’t deterred by poop, did you think the spit up would stop me? And to add insult to injury, while eating my lunch, a large clump of orangey-red Roasted Red Pepper Hummus landed smack on top of my boob. So by the end of the day, I looked (and smelled) like a damn war zone. My pants smell like shit. My cardigan looks like a bird shit on me and smells like vomit, and my formerly crisp white shirt now has a streaky reddish stain that looks like my boobs are bleeding.

When in the hell did I become this person??? I used to get up two hours before classes just to fix my make up and hair! Now, I slap on foundation only to cover up the circles that have migrated from under my eyes to the bottoms of my cheeks. Seriously. They start at the corners of my eyes and droop to my chin. I look like a Basset Hound. I put on mascara, only because my eyelashes are blond and if you’ve ever seen a blond without mascara, you know how frighteningly albino-ish it looks. I seriously have not dried my hair since early pregnancy. And my flat iron is hidden by a layer of dust so thick it’s starting to look like an antique.

I think we just call it a day on this one, Stacy. She is completely beyond our help.
Should we at least give her some tips on how to stop looking like Sandra Bullock in the school yard scene in Hope Floats?
No, she’s too far gone. We’ll just put her face/wardrobe up as a warning to all would-be moms. Except for the really special, uber pretty moms who know how to look effortlessly beautiful and can still wear Armani. Those moms are awesome. This one sucks. She should probably just start wearing a paper bag on her head.
Why stop there? A paper bag as a dress would be an improvement.

It’s true. I’m a disaster. I am the poster child of what not to wear. On top of all my messes, none of my clothes fit. And I should be happy about that. I mean, I’m only about three or four pounds off of the smallest I’ve been since high school. But I’m having a hard time getting excited about it since I know that I haven’t done anything to deserve this new… slimmer-ness. I breastfeed. I don’t work out. I don’t eat healthy. In fact, I eat really unhealthy. It just so turns out that between my two jobs, I don’t have time to eat all that much. So my clothes all hang off me at weird angles. And I can’t really buy new ones, because let’s face it, I’m not going to breastfeed forever. One day, I’m going to gain all that weight back. So for now I just wear my baggy suits and clothes and let them get swamped in absolute filth.
At least yesterday I didn’t spill any coffee on myself. (I did, however, dump a gallon into the crease of one of our law books.) I’m starting to feel like Ms. Geist in Clueless. Only, lets face it, she had that cute disheveled thing going for her. I don’t really pull off “cute” all that well… never have. Maybe when J is able to wipe his own ass, I’ll make a comeback. At least maybe I’ll be able to dry my hair again….


5 Responses to “What Not to Wear”

  1. Rebekah
    February 19th, 2010 @ 1:50 pm

    I feel ya. I really do. I'm a bit past the spit up stage but my fashion sense has not returned. I was writing about this very thing yesterday. (insert shameless self-promotion here – http://mom-in-a-million.blogspot.com/). Looking like a bag lady at work is epidemic among the mommy set. I think the only thing left to do is be proud that we're fully dressed at all.

  2. t.bird
    February 19th, 2010 @ 3:05 pm

    i lol'd- for real.

  3. Cyndi @ 6 Ring Circus
    February 19th, 2010 @ 9:09 pm

    Oh wow was this a good post. Not only do you talk about shit, but throwing in Clinton Kelly (my fav) AND Miss Geist? Genius. :o) And what is it about the evil properties of baby puke crust that make it not materialize until hours later when you're out in public? I'll never figure that out.

  4. Law Momma
    February 19th, 2010 @ 9:29 pm

    Amen, Rebekah. Although by saying that you may have jinxed me into forgetting my pants on Monday.
    And yeah, Cyndi… it's like evil magic. You think you got it all… but nope. It'll crust up just when you least expect it!

  5. ERIN
    February 22nd, 2010 @ 1:42 pm

    You are hilarious. I am having a great time reading your posts!

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    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
    Based on a work at http://www.law-momma.com.
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