Rebirth, renewal, pedicure

Mrs. Euphrosyne needs a makeover.

She’s slowly regaining a waistline (she always has great gams) and is hoping that the girls will be subsiding soon as well. It’s been two years and a bit since she worked outside the home; most of her work wardrobe, which was rather snazzy if she says so herself, is long gone to relatives or Goodwill, and anyway she’s not really interested in looking teacherish, even cute teacherish, on a daily basis.

But she’s realized lately that her wardrobe has gone completely over to the dark side…

MommyWear.

She doesn’t wear the de rigeur MommyWear capris – they cut her off at the precisely least flattering level, and she does have some pride – but she owns more knee-length crops and slim bermudas than she cares to admit. She has two types of shirts: t-shirts and toddler-stained t-shirts. She has good but unbearably dull undergarments. She has flats and sandals. Her earring piercings may have closed. Her nails are short because she’s been working with resin (she claims) and the residue is hard to clean (so she says). The truth is she simply doesn’t want to deal with the maintenance.

Or maybe, just maybe, she does.  And here’s the damnedest thing: she can dress everyone else, but evaluating her own lack of style and amending this problem is hellahard, possibly because she has no idea what the options are. Prissy schoolgirl: got it. Artsy student: did it. Party girl: nailed it. Teacher: aced it. Non-slob mommy?

No frickin clue.

Somebody, somebody, come to my rescue and take me shopping. Force me to try things on. Block my Landsend account. Veto boring shoes. Make me commit to accessories.

Tim Gunn, I cry for you in the wilderness.