Sunday, October 25, 2009

The Halloween Costume Conundrum

So in case you haven't figured this out yet, I'm a girly girl.  I live by the three Ps (pink, ponies, princesses), love make-up and shoes, and would still play dress up if it weren't weird.  Of course someone like me would give birth to a low-maintenance daughter.  My little princess likes to look pretty, but she doesn't like to work at it. And she holds fast to the belief that Halloween costumes are supposed to be scary.

So for the past 2 months I've been all dreamy about the prospect of dressing her up as the Little Mermaid, my very favorite princess in the whole world.  With her red hair and general gorgeousness, my little four year old would make an absolutely perfect Ariel.  Time to go Halloween costume shopping.  And what does she tell me she wants to be?  A ghost.  No lie.  I begged.  I pleaded.  I threatened.  Nothing would change her mind.  I decide to be an adult and let her be a ghost.  We go to Wal-Mart, buy the $8 white bed sheet, I cut holes in it, and voila:

A ghost.  And a pretty cute one.  She was extremely proud.  I had hopes that letting her wear it around the house would wear her down and convince her to wear something else in public, but no luck.  Until today.  We had 3 Halloween carnivals to attend this afternoon:  school, church, and neighboring church that has their carnival in the Gardens.  First Halloween carnival:  We do the ghost thing, people smile patronizingly, I blush and say awkward things like "it's what she wanted!" and gaze longingly at all of the little girls dressed up like princesses.

And then Heaven smiles on me.  While decorating a goodie bag with stamps, she totally ruins the sheet - there are markers, stamps, and paint all over it.  She gets pretty upset and asks if we can go to the store and get her a new costume!  Joy!!  Of course we can.  Visions of princesses dance in my head.  The whole way there she thinks she is going to be a skeleton.  I cringe.  I beg.  I threaten.  I go in prepared to be an adult again.  Until we get there and she spies...

A Hannah Montana costume!  Oh happy day!!  Of COURSE we buy the costume, the wig, and the microphone and I do a little cartwheel in the parking lot.  Hannah Montana is definitely a Disney princess.  My baby looks adorable, and I didn't even twist her arm.  And no matter how different we can be, here's one thing we can both agree on:  ponies are the best!


Monday, October 19, 2009

Skinny jeans...ugh

So I made a huge purchase today.  Yes, it's true.  I bought a pair of skinny jeans.  Shoot me.  Yesterday I hit a boot sale and I bought 4 pairs.  I woke up this morning and realized that I could not wear boot cut jeans with these adorable boots.  So what did I do after work today?  I went to buy skinny jeans.  This is another trend I have been resisting for some time now.  As you can probably tell already, I am not into trends.  I just now got one of those weird long cardigans that doesn't button.  What's up with that?  But I think I like it.  Anyway, skinny jeans.

Buying skinny jeans should be some sort of torture method.  Seriously.  First of all, you have to ask for them.  They don't just set them out.  I think that's specifically so you have to ask the tiny Mason's salesgirl, "Excuse me ma'am, do you have any skinny jeans?"  She looks you up and down, mentally muttering something about "fatty jeans" but asks you for your size.  You give a generous answer - maybe a size lower than you think you are.  She frowns and says something about them running small.  Ugh, ok.  Bring me a damn 29.  You think the worst part is over once you have the jeans alone in the dressing room.  Oh no, the fun is only beginning.

Once you do the jeans dance (you know, the dance you do every time you have to put your jeans on), you realize you have fat calves.  Fat calves?  When did your calves get fat?  Can they even get fat?  How do you target tone your calves?  Did the birthday cake you ate this weekend go straight to your calves?  Impossible, you think.  But there you are, face to face with the reality that you are one of those people who has fat calves.  You don't even know yourself anymore.  The thighs you saw coming, but the calves?  Timidly you ask the salesgirl about this condition.  She gives you a knowing smile and says, "Mine are like that too."  Okay, so maybe your calves are fine.  Maybe it's the style.  Like a corset, but for your lower legs.  You can deal with that.  Until you notice how short skinny jeans make you look.  No, that whole "make you look longer and leaner" thing is a a myth.  You look 4'11. 

But hey, you tell yourself, it's what all of the twenty-somethings are wearing.  And dammit, you are twenty-something too.  And even being someone's mom, wife, and looking distinctly like a pear with toothpicks coming out of the end isn't going to stop you from being en vogue.  So you take a deep breath and head to the checkout with them, vowing to yourself you will never be seen in these Godforsaken skinny jeans without boots covering your big fat calves.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

The First Post

Okay, so I gave in. All of my friends and co-workers have been blogging for months now. And I have resisted. I was hoping the blog trend would blow over without me getting too involved in it - you know, like cowboy boots, Twitter, and Desperate Housewives. But it appears blogging is here to stay. So grudingly, I have added one more thing to my to do list. As if I don't have enough to do. Now I feel the need to write about it.

I guess the best way to start is to write a bit about myself and my family. I live in gorgeous Fayetteville, Arkansas with my husband and our daughter. I have an Industrial Engineering degree from the University of Arkansas, and I work in transportation logisitics. My husband Ryan is a two time war veteran who is still working on his degree in human resources - I am so proud of him. We have 2 rescue cats, Lola and Ginger, and one boxer dog, Cash. Our house is like a zoo, and I am always trying to convince Ryan that we need one more animal (but no more kids, for now. So don't ask. I hate that question.) I love clothes, shoes, cooking (sometimes), strawberry margaritas, roller coasters, the Dallas Cowboys, music, fall, cleaning, the Razorbacks, and decorating (and redecorating) my house. I do not like beer, bows on babies, dirt/dust, blood, stress, or orange-flavored things. Other than orange rolls from the Crumpet, those are the best.

Okay, I have to go. I'm watching the Twilight movie for like the eighth time this weekend. Don't judge me. I forgot to mention I am currently madly in love with Edward Cullen.