What Not To Wear

We are careening forward in our attempts to be done Christmas shopping by Thanksgiving, mainly because I hate shopping, I hate waiting in lines, I hate crowds, and I hate shopping. Did I mention, I hate shopping?
So anyway, today we decided to make a huge dent in our gift list. In the process, I caught shopping fever.  Daniel wanted to know what kind of clothes I would like so I actually had to look around for clothes for myself. I sucked it up and tried to be a good sport. I walked by all the dresses--it has been years since I bought a dress, but they were just so shiny and pretty.  I found a few that were really beautiful.  Of course, finding dresses for me is some sort of fashion nightmare because I'm right between plus-sized and regular-sized clothes, large chested, extremely pale, self-conscious, and Mormon--which means I hold to certain standards of modesty--nothing above the knee, off the shoulder, or low necked.  I also have a tight budget, and I don't like my legs (see above, especially plus-sized and pale). Yeah, I'd like to see a "What Not To Wear," where they pull off this combination as well, but let's face it, no one would take on this perfect storm of buying obstacles on TV. My dad picks out nearly all my clothes, but we haven't bothered with a dress for a long time--it's just too hard to find ones that fit my modesty standards, apparently people of my size really want to emphasize the cleavage.
I guess in the midst of all the shiny happy dresses on their hangers, I forgot about nearly half of the issues I always encounter buying dresses and felt a glimmer of hope.  Some of these were really pretty--maybe with a cami or t-shirt, I could pull them off...maybe. Besides, I'm tired of dressing as the mayor of Frumpville.  I just want to look pretty for once! I'm a mom, not the patron saint of mom jeans, and it's about time I gave up the title. I'm not even 30, for crying out loud!  Just because it's hard to find things, doesn't mean it's impossible! I can do this!
I found a few beautiful dresses that might fit me, and decided to try them on. Once I took into account size, length, and sleeves, I was actually down to three options. Total. Out of the entire section.  I left Daniel and the kids, tried to look brave and went in fitting room.
I guess it's been a while since I tried on a decent dress, as I nearly got stuck in the first one. It was a no-go on the top, although the skirt part fit fine. I should have expected that, it's happened enough before.
The next one was actually kind of pretty, silver and taffeta, not too dressy, but it took me a while to figure out all the hidden zippers.  Once I got it on, all I could think was, "okay, this could be good, all I need is a cami.  Oh, holy crap, I need some fake tan too, no, that won't cut it...maybe black pantyhose...turn around, and whoa, make that spanx. Maybe double spanx. But, hey, it could happen. We are making progress here!"
I got stuck in the next one too.  It was a wrap dress, and once I figured out where everything stretched around, I was thinking a lot more about spanx. A lot. Why would they make something this size out of a knit so clingy? Plus, I could hear a little voice carrying down the hall saying "Hey, Mom!  Mom, are you in here!?" Clearly, the natives were restless. Getting stuck burned some precious time.
I came out a bit deflated, but not defeated.  Some of these were workable with continued attendance at bootcamp and the right layers of shaping garments, and undershirts, right? I was going to conquer the frump within!
Daniel met me holding a fussing Peyton out at a weird angle and said--"Smell him."
I didn't need to lean in--I could smell him from there.  Plus, I could see where he was leaking poop over the top of his diaper. For the second time today.
Sigh.
Of course, I drew the short straw of taking care of the leaky diaper while Daniel took Sam to the register to check out. At some point I will remember to replace the 3-6 month emergency outfit in the diaper bag with one that actually fits him (and is seasonally appropriate), but today was not that point. Maybe when I get myself painted into a corner twice more, it will finally sink in. I was searching desperately for a bathroom with a changing table and holding my cranky baby's head resting on my shoulder so I wouldn't have to touch his back or bum region, when I heard it.  The unmistakable sound of a burp with a bonus.
Super!
Luckily, he didn't completely hose me down with spit-up, but it reminded me that he had done exactly that only a short few hours ago. It also reminded me that there was currently a giant baby puke spot on the red satin skirt I'd bought for my Halloween costume (purchased at Goodwill on the cheap thankfully), which is why I ended up handing out candy in jeans.
Then, I realized what all this was. This was the universe holding a giant flashing sign that read "You look like you swapped clothes with a homeless man for a reason, genius!"
Dry clean only.  What in the world was I thinking?!
I guess I should thank Peyton for pointing out the flaw in my plan before I shelled out the money. Maybe if I work really hard, by the time my children stop making me look like a Jackson Pollock of bodily fluids and smell like fermenting milk, I won't need to double the spanx anymore. Optimism. It's a good thing.