I wasn't sure what to wear. I tried on a few outfits... all black of course, because as Will told me when we were shopping at Bloomingdales, "women love to wear dark colors." He said that to me when he saw a yellow dress and commented that the dress "was just too weird. Moms don't wear yellow." Which is definitely true about this mom.
Most of my clothes are black. I love black. Looks nice, goes with everything.... Jessica actually told me once that I "have to start wearing more color or people will think I'm goth." Let me tell you, that may be the one thing in my life I am not worried about. I have a few pinks, a couple greens, and even a blue. I sometimes switch it up and go brown.... but black will always be my one true love.
I try to shop for a more colorful wardrobe, but always seem to come home with a new black something. I am the queen of black skirts. I love them. Short ones, shorter ones :) and then a few that cover my knee, and even a couple that go mid calf. There are pleated ones and a- line ones and drop waist ones. There's one that has a belt, a layered one.... They are all different to me, even if they may just look like a sea of black hanging in my closet.
Anyway, sunday night I was deciding between a black dress, a black short (but not too short.. just above the knee) pleated skirt with a black sequined 3 quarter length sleeve sweater, or a black top with beads (Will picked it out for me the day he was my personal shopper) with a layered black skirt.
Jon liked the first outfit, I liked the second, Jessica liked the third. I tried them all on again.... I know all you men out there are so happy you don't live with me.... and decided on the outfit I liked. I ironed my hair, put on my makeup, and slipped on the highest patent leather black heels I owned. Always fun to wear those... even though they are hard to walk in. For once I actually liked what I saw in the mirror. I was praising myself for the 250 crunches I did the night before, as I admired the lady in black smiling at me in the mirror.
You are probably wondering why I am writing this whole long boring blog post about getting dressed. Well, I am writing it for myself because it was one of the few times I left my house knowing I looked good. I felt really pretty and feminine. I am usually my biggest and harshest critic, and for once, I did not have a bad thought about the way I looked.
I had a really nice time out with Jon. I sat with my good friends. I had a little wine and some sushi. And just felt really good about myself. That does not happen very often.
Of course the night came to a sudden halt when we went to pick up our kids from my parents' house and Jessica was puking her guts out....
But you know, nothing's perfect. At least it wasn't my bed she was puking in... yuck.
I did what any other mom would do. I took my kids home. I got into some comfy clothes (also black.... black long sleeve tee and leggings... I am the queen of black clothes) and prepared myself for the long, sleepless, vomit cleaning up night I had ahead of me.
At least my hair still looked good.