Donning a suede skirt this morning, atop smoothly shaved legs gave me the decided Pick Me Up I so desperately needed….honestly, it’s so lovely to slip into something that fits again! Added little kitten heels, to feel feminine, yet powerful - I find that on days when I’m dragging quite a good bit, being dressed in something sumptuous helps.
And, let’s face it, with the office feeling more like a snake pit these days, than a restful place to be productive, any little bit helps. The well-dryed hair that is still looking as good as it did in the bathroom mirror, the fact that I’ve managed to do a lovely shave job, without bleeding like a stuck pig from the backs of the ankle -which means, no Spiderman Bandaids* to mar the expanse of slowly paling calf. I nearly feel as though this one morning, I’m on top of my game.
At least, as far as my ability to dress.
Fox on the other hand, has. Well. Rather…lowered the bar for picture day. We argued over the trouser selection I had chosen; he won that round when he decided that left over chinese food was a perfect breakfast, and proceeded to wipe his greasy hands and face on the khaki’s. He’s wearing sweatpants.
Fox: 1. Mama: 0.
He wanted to wear the oversized hand-me-down Cape Cod shirt from Auntie Mag’s boys, but I drew a line in the sand - he wore it yesterday! It had paint, handprints, dog snot and God only knows what else on it. After a bit of a tousle (ie., tug of war with a cotton shirt) we agreed that he could have the pick of three shirts selected by moi.
He didn’t care for my selections.
The navy and white striped polo? So cute! Hated it. Ditto the maroon, and the pale blue with fish skeletons on it. (is way cuter in person, sounds a bit…er….natty, but Target does have the most fabulous things!) Listening to his diatribe on fashion sense (or lack thereof, if you ask me, which he clearly did not) I falied to grasp why dressing as a Pirate awash on a desert island would make a good school picture. In a moment of inspiration, I compromised: the black, collared polo (thank you Target!) with white skulls and crossbones on it.
There. Respectable, as it’s a polo. Piratey, with the symbol for an imminent poisonous death plastered in minature all over it.
Fox: 1. Mama:1.
Running my hands over the hem of the skirt, the suede smooth and nearly creamy, in a warm richly creamed coffee colour, soothes over the ragged edges left by knowing my entire family will be receiving a Christmas card from Dread Fox the NGES Pirate. With my luck, he’ll bare his teeth in some semblance of a snarl, and look as though he’s been diagnosed with scurvy.
Thank goodness for seuded skirts and kitten heels. I may have lost most of the battle this morning, but I look like I’ve won the war.
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