What's the worst question you can ask a new mother?

"When are you due?"

Oh, the horror of having someone think you are pregnant when you have ALREADY HAD THE BABY! [dum dum dummmmmm]

I was about a month postpartum when I started looking for some new clothes. Still unable to fit into my prepregnancy stuff, I was happy to go shopping for tops and dresses that could accommodate my new boobs. Little did I know that the path to cuteness was paved with danger.

Enemy number one: The Empire Waist

Sandals Cay Silk Empire Waist Shirt
I had several male friends express their dismay when these came back into fashion. "How am I supposed to know who is pregnant and who isn't? I just totally insulted my coworker and I didn't mean to!" one poor fellow exclaimed. Why do we continue to buy these tops when we know darn well that floaty fabric coming down from the bustline hints at a baby bump?

They make our boobs look great. For that, we will forgive almost anything. But maybe we shouldn't.


Enemy Number Two: Trapeze Dresses
Maggy London Jersey Trapeze Dress
Oh, remember back in the early 90's when we all wore these and thought we looked adorable? I was about 12 or so and had one in dark green. Of course, being a scrawny kid with braces probably put the pregnancy questions to rest.

Also, if you wear one of these and twirl around really fast, everyone gets to see your underwear. Not that I ever did that.


Enemy Number Three: Tunics
Boden Fabulous Tunic
Sigh. This is really, really cute. I love the print and how it makes me think of a go-go dancer or a character from Austin Powers. I'd be tempted to wear this over gray leggings and cute loafers, but let's analyze: no defined waist, little to no shaping at the sides, unlikely to work well with a belt...yeah. I'd look pregnant.


Enemy Number Four: Blouson Dresses

Nordstrom Suzi Chin dress
In all fairness, I think this dress is okay. The problem is the blouson part itself. This extra bit of fabric that is folded over does its job; it hides your tummy. The problem is that it sort of rounds over your tummy, creating a nice little pouch perfect for a BABY to live in, kangaroo-style.

Enemy Number Five: Drop Waists
J. Crew Drop-Waist Dress
I have a bit of a drop waist phobia. I was turning twelve when my fashion-challenged grandmother gave me a pale blue floral-print drop-waisted dress for my birthday. It even had a big pink satin sash and a Peter Pan collar. Dude, you show up to sixth grade in a dress like that and you're gonna get your ass kicked. Drop waists manage to hide every possible curve on your body. Tush? Nah. Hips? Fuggeddaboudit. If the dress pictured here didn't have the ruffles, even your breasts would be nonexistent. Drop-waisted dresses can rot in hell, and take their Peter Pan collars with them. I'm sorry, Grandma, but the dress was really bad. I think that was the same year you gave me the music stand, too. Don't worry, I still love you.

Just Say No

It's not easy keeping up with the latest trends, people. Skinny jeans. Colorblocking. Textured knits. Plus, we all know it's risky to obey the Fashion Gods willy-nilly. Anyone remember Hypercolor? Jams? Ed Hardy?

What amazes me are the clothes and accessory advertisements where not even the model looks good. If someone who was hired specifically to look awesome cannot manage it, what chance do the rest of us have? Designers, I urge you: if a model cannot wear it, DO NOT manufacture more!

Here is a look at some items that should never be on anyone's body under any circumstances:

1969 high-rise pleat shorts
A waist, you ask? We don't need no stinkin' waist!

Sugar & Spice Jumpsuit
You are getting sle-e-epy...my zigzags are hy-y-ypnotizing you...
What are the odds that all of your proportions match the jumpsuit's proportions?

Liz Claiborne Flutter Sleeve Top

I suppose the upside would be this shirt's ability to mask baby vomit.

Ed Hardy Rose Wrapped Heart Rhinestone Zippered Leggings
If you like them that much, just get a REAL TATTOO already! It would be classier!


Kae Feather Skirt
Let's breed a leopard and an ostrich and see what we get! Just a fluffy butt, you say? Eh. All right.


Did anyone catch what all of these items have in common? They are all on sale. The stores desperately hope that a lower price will entice us to commit fashion suicide. "Yeah, I know the drop-crotch zebra-print harem pants are kinda weird, but they were ON SALE!"

Are we clear? Just say no to jumpsuits, bad denim, horrific prints and genetically engineered animals. This is not an exhaustive list, of course, so feel free to discuss your favorite form of ugly.

We Love Short Shorts (Or Not)!

I live in Daisy Duke country, y'all. I'm referring to the shorts, not the TV character. A college town in Florida means lots and lots of really tiny shorts. There have been times when I was unsure whether a young lady was actually wearing shorts or if they were boy-cut bikini bottoms. How does one know if one's shorts are too tiny?

If your underwear sticks out the bottom

If your pockets are longer than your shorts

If your t-shirt covers your shorts so it looks like you aren't wearing any

If the crease where your thigh meets your butt can be seen as you walk

If you need a bikini wax in order to wear your shorts

I really, really hate wearing shorts. When I moved here two years ago I didn't own any. It took less than two weeks of 85-degree weather (in October!) to realize that I could not live in this climate without wearing shorts occasionally. Alas, shorts are a logistical nightmare. I'm a fair-skinned, dark-haired woman, so if I miss a day shaving I look like Velcro. At 5'3", "fashion rules" dictate that I should wear short shorts to make my legs look longer. I guess the ladies at Vogue have nannies to sit cross-legged on the floor to read endless rounds of The Very Hungry Caterpillar and to bend over every time a kiddo wants to be scooped up.

Even though I am anti-shorts, I am also anti-heat-exhaustion. Therefore, I have had to squat down in dressing rooms to assess the adequacy of inseams, buy the least-objectionable shorts I can find, and then shave constantly to the point that my razor burn looks like poison ivy. Bermudas, you suggest? A pair of Bermuda shorts is the ONLY clothing item in my eight-year marriage that my husband has particularly asked me not to wear. I love me some man-repelling fashion, but if my man thinks I look better during childbirth than I do wearing Bermudas, I should probably pay attention.

Just as women are always looking for the perfect bra or little black dress, I am constantly on the hunt for the perfect shorts. In my dreams, they make my legs look tan, long, and lean, they don't ride up, and they do not provide free adult entertainment when I bend over. I have yet to find this miracle.

I'm pinning my hopes on this cute pair I bought at the Gap this weekend:

Trimmed trouser shorts Regular Price $49.95

Interestingly enough, the faux-leather trim on the pair I bought is actually black, not brown like the picture.

I'll let everyone know when I've made my ruling.

Welcome!

Before we begin, let's get one thing straight. This is not a complain-about-my-body blog. There will be no rants about tummies, boobs, hips, or weight. Frankly, all that nonsense has been done to death and only succeeds in making women feel bad about themselves.

This is a work-with-what-you've-got-as-long-as-you-WORK-IT-GIRL! blog. I want to feel good about myself, and cute clothes help me achieve that. I do not want to be one of those women who completely leaves herself behind when she has children. Being a mother is only part of my identity, and while my daughter may not care what I'm wearing, I care. And that's enough.

Moving on...

Mommyhood makes me look for different attributes in clothing now. I sadly avoid loose knits and cool laser cuts that are easily destroyed by munchkin fingers. Low rise jeans will be left to the college kids across town. I hate it when my undies show. In fact, I'm reluctant to wear anything requiring special undergarments because special undergarments are nearly always uncomfortable. Dry-clean-only clothes are to be avoided except on special occasions. Aside from the toxic chemicals used in the dry cleaning process, dry cleaning is certainly more expensive than simply throwing something in my washing machine. Since Tiny Daughter has all sorts of goo oozing from various orifices at any given time, I tend to wash my clothes a lot. A lot.



I was thrilled to find this cute summer dress at Express. I liked it so much I bought it in red and black. It's a cotton/modal blend with an elastic (!) waist, so it's super comfy and can be washed in the machine and even shoved in the dryer. The double layer skirt means I don't have to think about what kind of underwear I'm wearing, and the split sleeves do a pretty decent job of hiding bra straps. I slap on a belt to cover the elastic and match my mood. I originally bought a black leather ruffly belt to wear with the dress but found some different belts that were more fun.


Here's the dress itself.









Here it is with the gold sparkly stretchy belt I bought for $6 at the Gap.


I added gold wedges I've owned for ages. Normally I avoid heels, but these are stable enough that I don't feel as if I'm going to topple over.











Finally, here is the dress with one of my all-time favorite purchases, a Desigual belt I bought in Zurich.












Plus, a close-up of the belt, which has a really unique design:






This dress should also work in winter with some tights and killer boots, no? Maybe a black leather jacket thrown on top...