There’s just something about that little black dress

Pretty on the Outside

In the midst of a search for a real winter coat–week 2, still no luck–I found a pretty little black dress, on sale no less. It took exactly 60 seconds of should I or shouldn’t I before I decided I should. Who was I trying to fool anyway?

It’s perfect, just revealing enough to be sexy but not so much it borders slutty. Imagine this dress, but sleeveless. And yes, the neckline  is a plunging one.

I tried it on when I got home. I put on the stilettos, and posed in front of the mirror. I began to twirl because I felt pretty. Something, admittedly, I haven’t felt in quite a while.

I work, a lot. I’m an editor, a writer and I sit in front of a computer all day. My job rarely requires me to do more than brush my teeth and get dressed. I rarely wear make up, and only brush my hair if it really needs it. I prefer comfy boots or flip flops over anything else, and if I had enough yoga pants, I’d wear them daily. I’ve basically transformed from a girl who ran events in a dress and heels, to the girl whose friends would probably secretly nominate her to be on an episode of What Not to Wear.

I’ve given in to frumpy. In many ways, I’ve given in to everything I feared about turning 40.

But, as every woman knows, there’s something absolutely magical about finding the perfect little black dress. And as I continued twirling in my dress my head began to spin as I saw a world of possibilities, making this a moment that can only be one that is to be continued…

Jeans and genetics

Pretty on the Outside

With my recent weight loss has come a need for new clothes. I had two pair of jeans, one that I wore until they were to the point of falling off of me, and another that I can still get away with for about two more weeks. Though I have had a serious need for it, I’ve

My jeans (sans the bedazzled look of course)

avoided shopping for new jeans for two reasons: 1) I haven’t had the money; 2) there’s a certain mental/emotional armor one has to put on in preparation for trying on jeans.

My sister convinced me that the first wasn’t actually a factor to consider because clothes that fit is not a luxury, but an investment in myself. The second was more difficult to get over. The thought of trying to find jeans that fit the combination of my thighs/hips/butt and waist was daunting. Even under the best of circumstances (when I was at my fittest) it was never an easy task, so now pounds heavier (though also many pounds lighter) I wasn’t confident that I’d find a pair that fit.

Finding the right jeans takes multiple fittings at a dozen stores often ending in a lot of disappointment. NOTHING ever fits my waist due to the hip to waist ratio. While having a booty is something I do proudly on good days, it’s a curse on others. Designers definitely design for model-types (skinny, no ass, straight line from whatever direction you’re looking at them).

Thanks to genetics I’ve had an ass and very few jeans since the age of 12.

But for once, I was wrong. Thanks to the new sizing in jeans that takes into consideration women who have curves I was able to find two pair that fit. To say I did a little dance in my soon-to-be jeans in the dressing room would be an understatement; it was a full-on broadway musical of happiness in there.

If you’re a woman with hips, you know the feeling!


Whoa! I feel good, I knew that I would, now
I feel good, I knew that I would
So good, so good, I got you
So good, so good, I got you
So good, so good, I got you