Don't throw stones at me. Please. Because neither my heart nor my feelings can take it at the moment. Working out has been going great, but as usual, my eating sucks... and basically, I've just chalked this week up as a wash. It's girl's weekend and I can't say that I'll be focusing on my weight these next few days. Sorry, but it's true.
For the first time in six years, we've decided that the Ya-Ya's are going out. And with that, comes so many realizations. We're not the spring chickens we used to be, and it's hitting us that we'll be the out of control middle-aged women at the bar that we used to make fun of. Let's just say that our lifelong dream of dancing on a bar top won't be happening this weekend. I just don't see how that could possibly be cute. I can see it now. We could make the headlines... "Women break bar." Ha!
Today was a downer of a day. Last March when I had lost weight, I could try on clothes with a smile. Things actually looked halfway decent. Today, not so much.
My mom and I went shopping... because well... my daily anti-rape clothes of wind pants and sweatshirts just don't scream "going out" to me. So, I was trying to find a cute outfit. Cute, but not too cute... because I'm not wasting money on an outfit I wear out one time and I can't use in my daily routine. But I hit tons of road blocks. Where do I begin???
First off, I don't even know where to shop. The preppy argyle cardigan and cord pants that I had my eye on aren't exactly bar clothes. Jones of New York was filled with business attire and I looked like a fish out of water trying way too hard at Charlotte Russe. Anthropologie is screaming my name, but my wallet isn't hearing it. I just can't get into the whole legging/jegging look. I try to go there, but I feel like I'm a decade and half past that and that all I'm missing is a pair of flat Sam and Libby’s with a bow on the toe. Skinny jeans are cute, but when they are cut so low that my spare tire sits on the top like a shelf, they suddenly lose their cuteness. And my usual go-to flowy shirts might make some question if I'm a pregnant lady drinking at a bar. I'm a big girl. I'm a good six feet tall when I'm in heals... and you know it's a bad shopping trip when you actually ponder to yourself if you should show a camel toe just so people don't wonder about you... You know in a transvestite, Khloe Kardashian, Chyna sort of way.
I definitely should have ordered those cute oversized earrings I've been pining over from the Stella and Dot catalogue. Too bad I don't have time to get them by the weekend. And I'm not even sure those would help... they might draw attention to my double chin. Ugh.
What's a girl to do? After becoming more and more depressed, my mom and I did what we always do. We turned to food. Sbarro pizza and a coke helped for a hot second... and then we realized- that's what got us in this mood. Our addiction to all the wrong foods.
On top of all this, the girls and I don't even know where to go out to anymore. Our old haunts- Broo's and Bungalow's don't even exist. Word on the street is to start out at Clyde's or The Dock... but to watch out because they get a little "weird" as the night goes on. And pardon me, but if I'm stressing out so much about this night, I know that we're going to want to stay out. For once, we have no mouths to feed and no butts to wipe... and this mama doesn't have a curfew. Suggestions please.:)
Now I know why I am soooo looking forward to lounge night and why I spend my weekends cuddled in my snuggie with my fuzzy socks. This going out thing is way too stressful. Sex and the City 2... I can't wait to watch you.
And just so ya know, on Monday, I'll be returning to my hardcore weight loss journey for the millionth time. I've decided to go on record that if I don't lose ten pounds by Christmas that I'm officially resigning as being I Am Modern's resident weight loss blogger. A weight loss blogger should actually lose weight. I know I have it in me. This too shall pass, right?