Fashion Police, Puh-Lease!

There is nothing quite as sobering as walking around a “fashion” mall after having children. Instantly, I am aware that since having my children, my body has shifted and contorted in ways that no longer allow “fashion” to fit me the way it used to ~ the way it’s supposed to…the way in which it would actually look “fashionable”. No, instead I end up looking like a sausage in an ill fitted casing..in silk bloomers. Let’s just call it what it really is #Fashionfail.

Next, I realize that since having my girls, I don’t actually have any extra money lying around to afford high “fashion”. Hell, I can’t even afford a low fashion makeover. Well, that is NOT entirely true. I can afford it. Or I could, if all my assets were fluid and not tied up in, oh I don’t know, private school tuition, ballet, soccer, headbands, tutus, kids concerts, enough toys to fill  my very own Toys R Us, organic food, $8 gallons of milk, doctors, dentists, clothing and shoes for said children.It’s like a gave birth to two of the most adorable little money pits on the face of the earth. I give willingly but at times, like my visit to the “fashion” mall, I am slapped across the face with my sacrifices.

Finally, I try to just give in and let myself visit a place I’ve not been in many years..you know what I’m talking about. That place in your mind where you gingerly ( as if I’ve been able to gingerly do anything since having kids) linger over beautiful clothes, outfitting yourself in your head. Perusing books and art. Fingering the purses and admiring the shine of some audaciously over priced piece of silver jewelry. You know, something  oh so Bo-Ho chic.Trying on multiple pairs of lovely shoes in every possible style, color and heel height available. You remember, pull back ..way back, into the recesses of your mind…shopping. Ahhhh, exhale.Isn’t it absolutely fabulous? I used to be that woman who would shop all day long, until I found the perfect ensemble. The perfect piece of jewelry. The perfect heel. I thrived there, between the racks and amongst the other shoppers.So, when I walked into Anthropologie ( already devastated at my state of affairs) you can imagine the deflated feeling that overcame me when the moment I eyeballed something of splendor…my 3 year old began to whine. The Big Guy heavily sighed in aggravation and my 5 year old said, “I want to go someplace else!” Apparently, I am not even allowed the simple courtesy of being able to window shop in peace. They have taken one of my most sacred past times and turned it to shit….in a matter of minutes.

I left thinking, forget the fashion mall, who needs a $300 shirt anyways? Nobody NEEDS it but damn it, what I wouldn’t give to have the option to decide of my own volition if I even wanted to buy the damn thing.On most days, I LOVE my girls so much that I can’t stand it. But after the trip to the “fashion” mall, I can’t decide if I’m excited for them to be teenagers and enjoy “shopping” with me (of course, then I still won’t be able to shop because again I will be buying everything for them) or perhaps, I am excited for them to be excited to shop so that I can return the favor and NOT let them enjoy their shopping experience. Turn about has to be fair play in motherhood, right? I mean, my mom wished  on me a child exactly like me and I got two. The least I can do is dole out some karma, right? Isn’t that my Mommy duty?