The Doldrums

As I sit here at Marvelous Market, alternately reviewing government documents that will continue to make my life hell for the next two months, facebooking, tweeting, and emailing what feel, like long-lost-friends, I'm in the Doldrums. Not the naval phenomenon, and not those Milo runs across in his wacky literary adventures (gold star if you get the reference), but the I-haven't-showered-or-washed-or-cut-my-hair-and-hate-everything-in-my-closet kind.

Part of it, if you've been following my tweets, is that I've been working ridiculous hours. I miss my kids and H, we have no food cooked in the house (popchips and Masala Art takeout are staples right now), and the last thing on my mind is putting together a reasonable outfit, let alone putting on makeup. I know better. I know that, if I've been working all night, haven't slept, and need to keep focusing, that showering, putting on makeup, and at minimum a coordinated outfit without babyfood stains will make me feel better. I learned that a long time ago, from a dear friend whom I will purposefully never see again. You've heard me say all this before, I know.

Part of it is that I've gained weight. A lot. I've matched my highest, pre-wedding (not baby-induced) weight. Which is not a good thing. I'd lost weight after Bean #2, but then gained it back. Eating like a pig and indulging as comfort...well, not helpful. I haven't made it to any kind of workout or yoga class in months. (I ran into my yoga teacher from last semester at Politics & Prose last week. She was, as every yoga instructor I've ever encountered is, kind, patient, and understanding. Which doubled my guilt at not going.) Nothing in my closet fits except for my "fat pants" and two pair of beloved LOFT cordorouy pants that fit like blessed gloves and miraculously don't make me feel like a sausage.

The last part is that I just don't have time. I don't have time to shop. I don't have time to iron. I don't have time to drop and pick up drycleaning on the 3 things I own that make me feel good. So I don't. I feel like crap because I can't be bothered. I haven't even bothered to wear my favorite shoes (lillybees, I'm lookin' at you, kids) because my months-old pedicure is so nasty that I can't even fake it under fishnets in peeptoes. So I wear my grey booties daily. Which is all fine and good in icky weather, but when the sun starts to peek out and buds (or bugs, as The Bean calls them) are flirting with breaking through their barked cocoons, grey ankle booties just won't cut it.

So I'm slowly plotting my return. Slowly, people. I can't take more than that. What's the plan, you ask? Well, it's been underway for a leeetle bit. And I'll keep you posted, but here we go...

1) Go out in public with real clothes and talk to non-work people. Check. I went to last week's launch of Jill Kargman's hilarious (laughed out loud during my bathroom reading) Sometimes I Feel Like a Nut at ginger. I squeezed myself into a girdle (let's face it, it's not a "shaper"), put on tights, lillybees, a dress (crazy, but now I can't even remember which one), and a vintage astrakhan coat from my MIL. I chatted with Jill, the incomparable Babsie D, and a lovely writer I've met before. Just three people, but they were people.

2) Get a haircut. Almost check. I see Jae today at 3pm.

3) Buy new shoes. Since I'm not happy with my body, I can play with my feet fashion. Almost check. Taking The Bean with me to the Georgetown simplysoles outpost today.

4) Get healthy. Ok. That's a much longer term one, but I'll get there. And if you have it in your hearts to help me, reminding me along the way, I'll take whatever support I can get.

5) Buy a few pieces I love NOW. Not for the future healthy me, but for the Rubenesque, Now Me. First stop: March 29 DSS.

6) Keep going. Even when I'm distracted or have relapses into UnshoweredWorld, I will get. back. on. the. wagon.

And I'll kiss the Doldrums goodbye.

The Mojo's Coming Back...Slowly

When life gets crazy with sick Beans,* too little space for too many people, Big Important Projects at work, well, the last thing on my mind is clothes.

A long time ago, in a land far away called College, I subscribed to the idea of "dressing comfortably," especially after having been up all night cramming for exams - or talking with a new boyfriend all night (yes! just talking - we thought we were very enlightened). I'd wear my lucky wool socks, old holey jeans, and a sweatshirt.

Then I went to Germany, spent my junior year in Bremen, and along the way met a wonderful Italian man by the name of Luca. There's a lot more to the story than what I'll share here, but I will say that when we met, I was not in the best state of mind (never, ever date a British man - apologies to my British friends). I was very much in "comfortable clothes," both literally and emotionally.

Somehow, along the way, he managed to teach me that when I go out the door, I should be put together. He managed to pull the nicer clothes out of my teeny dorm room closet and get me to wear them. He managed to get me to realize that I am, in fact, a beautiful woman, and, well, maybe others might think so, too.

Many, many years later, I'm blessed with a husband who agrees.

But sometimes, like over the past few months, I just haven't been able to pull it together, style-wise. I have clothes in my closet I like, but I just don't even have time to put them together. I'd much rather focus on my Bean. It's a rare week when I get to blowdry my hair instead of going to sleep with it wet. Mornings I put on my make up and brush my hair at my desk. I just don't have the spirit to bother.

But with Fall here, I can pull out a couple of old standbys in which I always feel good. I waited until a week full of Big Meetings at work, when I know some of my Old Retired Colonels will compliment me in a way that's probably inappropriate. So out came the black merino cowl neck sweater and the Daslu boots, and paired them with a retro below-the-knee flared skirt for a little prim but not entirely proper flash. It was just too hot for the sweater, but I suffered for style. I brushed out my hair at my desk, and wore it down to choruses of "Your hair's different today." The boots elicited a couple of "Niiiice boots," and a couple of Old Guys trying to Be Good. Amusing, and appreciated, as wrong as it might be.

A girl's gotta use what she's got when she's got it.

*She's fine - it was just her first Big Cold. She survived just fine. We, however, are still recovering.

Tagged by a Muse

The Liquid Muse tagged me with her "Five Things You Don't Know About Me." This will, of course, ruin the game for any facilitator who tries the icebreaker with questions not known about participatns.

1) I was in the Harvest Queen Pageant in 12th grade. I didn't win. Not even Miss Congeniality. The girl who won was the daughter of a previous winner. She danced to that "Lean on Me" remix. I, on the other hand, didn't quite get what pageants were about and did a monologue from "Nunsense." And dressed up as an overweight nun. Complete with extra padding and bifocals.

2) I have a degree in German Language. It's terribly useful.

3) My mom's family was all Quaker, until my grandmother's generation. Came over in 1683. Land grant from William Penn.

4) I used to be afraid of riding in taxicabs. Until I got in the Mercedes-Benz versions all by my lonesome on my solo trip to live in Bremen, Germany, all by myself.

5) Up through high school (ok, til I met Luca in Germany), I was virtually unaware that the clothes I wore regularly, though I thought they were, were incredibly unstylish. Thank goodness for engaged Italian lovers who can gently explain to the innocent little American girls that wearing sweats all the time is not in the least bit attractive.

My tags: Scarlet, CapHill Barbie, Carrie (ok, it's suppsed to be 5, but I thought I'd keep it to folks I thought would really respond).