I'm a Mess

I am fairly certain I could not be a full-time stay at home mom.  Or I should say that I totally could be a stay at home mom, but not for long because my husband might leave because he would tire of me never getting out of pajama pants and t-shirts, my hair stuffed up into a ponytail, no make-up and unplucked eyebrows. Not a pretty picture.  The good news is that I do cook more than is typical, but the house doesn't seem any neater, so there's that.

I keep waiting to find my own personal style.  To step out in coordinated work-out clothing (that's what other stay-at-home-moms seem to do) or to look like I'm wearing an outfit.  Basically, I want to channel the flair of my blogger crush, Brooke.  She's fancy.  And stylish.  And it looks effortless.  Maybe someday?

The Sad Truth

Pintrest and the darn default categories have made me realize I have turned into something:  someone with no style.  In the "My Style" category, I realized that t-shirts and pajama pants probably aren't re-pin worthy.  Then I realized that the only clothes I have purchased for myself since the arrival of Baby Brook-Brook are a pair of check shorts and navy v-neck tee to go with them.  Oh, and I scored a Big Sam shirt from Camp Carter.  I'm pretty sure that shouldn't count.

I am one of those moms.  You know, the ones who have children that are dressed remarkably cute and sassy and then you look at the mom and wonder what the whuck?  Doesn't she realize?  Then think to yourself, she could be so cute if only she would ______.  Yep.  That's me.  I will even openly admit that the large majority of my clothes are hand-me-downs from my mom.  My mom.  Yes, she has style, but still.

Here's the thing:  I only half-way care.  My mother (the one with the style) will be horrified when she reads this because she so desperately wants me to care more, but alas, I'm stuck at the half-way point.  Why half-way?  I like to look cute, but the reality is:

1. I have a NEED to be comfortable.  Need.  It hasn't changed since that shabby, sloppy royal blue jogging suit I wore in 7th grade until my mom said I couldn't wear it out anymore.  It also counts for shoes.  I like heels on other people--I do.  But I need my toes to be comfy.  
2. Clothes shopping is depressing.  I don't like my size and therefore purchasing clothes in that dreaded number is just further reminder.
3. I am cheap.  I love a good bargain.  Turns out that grown-up clothes that look nice are pricey.  
4. I hate to iron.  The last time I ironed was 3 years ago.  I'm fairly certain that wasn't an exaggeration.
5. I'm doing well to get out of the house looking presentable.  This means my jewelry hasn't been unpacked since we moved.  In April 2010.  

 These new shoes might be the prime example of my half-way cute, comfortable style:

Hrm.  Now I just seem fat and lazy.  Oh, and sloppy.  Oh well.  I only half-way care.