Schlumpiness

On our hs'ing forum a subject of late has been schlumpiness. As in Oprah schlumpiness. I've long since come to a comfortable place with my place in life for the present. I truly believe I'm doing what God has planned for me to do in this season of my life and I'm good with it. I'm to be an Army Wife, a stay at home mom, a nanny. However, I don't have to LOOK like it. You know what I mean, frumpy.

My dear, lovely friend Megan says I have three colors in my wardrobe- black, white, and denim. Not true, I will deny it to the end. What can I say, I have color phobias. It goes back to a traumatic experience in middle school involving being teased for wearing a black Coca-Cola shirt with a pink, stonewashed skirt. It still brings me anxiety to think about it. Shopping with Megan is a very amusing experience. Either we LOVE the exact same things, or we look at the other person as if thinking, "Who are you?!" Like the last time she was here and refused to accompany me into J.Crew, citing that it was far too preppy for her. She opted for Sephora instead.

I think I've finally found my place in style. Somewhere between Sundance Catalog and Anthropologie. Of course, this is not my norm. A lot of the time if I'm not going out, I'll revert back to whatever sounds most comfortable and it usually involves my Uggs.

Then there is the wonderfullness that I call my hair. I am REALLY trying to instill hair love in Bella. She calls her hair "Mermaid Hair." I've had a love hate relationship with mine. I'm currently growing it out after a "you're going to be straight doggonit" moment in my life. After many close friends told me that they preferred it curly, and I contemplated whether or not I should continue to torture my locks, I've gone back to curly. Now I just have to grow it out from this crazy Aline that it's found itself in. I will love my hair, I will love my hair.