I am not a terribly fashionable person. I dress for comfort, for disguise, for life with a small child. I don’t love the shape of my body so I usually just find clothes that fit, not ones that are especially stylish. I don’t spend a lot of money on my clothes and I don’t shop very often. I have some cute outfits, mostly ones my husband picked out for me, but I’m still, most days, a decent candidate for “What Not To Wear”.
I wish I was different sometimes. I wish I was a bit more stylish, that I made more of an effort. I think sometimes that I’m waiting for some future self, a smaller future self, to dress. A future self, in better shape, worth spending time and money to dress well.
I’m sitting on my couch in slightly sweaty yoga pants (after another good walk with my friend E. tonight with the added fitness challenge of pushing the baby monkey in the jogging stroller) and an old t-shirt from my college days. I’m watching these women:
Wishing I had this dress:
And, mostly, this sense of confidence:
Oh Joan. I love Joan.