I went shopping for work clothes on Tuesday.
Because I own basically two types of outfits: church dresses and skirts, and workout clothes.
Not because I work out, but because I like to slouch around in workout clothes while I’m working.
You get the picture. You’re probably either jealous or appalled.
It’s been a good run. But now I have to arrive at a workplace, for awhile at least, in something presentable. And here’s how it went.
1. Denial: I can’t go shopping. I haven’t been clothes-shopping in ages. I don’t even know where the stores are.
2. Anger: These crappy weird eighties clothes cost how much?!?
3. Bargaining: Do these shirts make me look like a Target mom? I’ll make you cookies if you say no.
4. Depression: How come nothing fits me post-three-kids? Why did my boobs migrate to my hips?
5. Acceptance: Coming home with three bags of clothes, all of which Kate has approved.