Okay, so I haven't really done anything to contribute to weight loss this weekend, which is weird... cause you'd think after Friday I'd be moderately motivated.
Why, you ask?
Well, I'll tell you.
Like many working folk, I'm often out of bed, through the shower, dressed (mostly) and flying out the door before my brain registers what sort of reflection is staring back at me from the mirror.
This has resulted in a few, inconvenient and embarrassing days.
- one black boot and one brown boot (damn me for actually "buying one in every color" when I find a new favorite)
- Realizing a sweater is more "sheer" than not, and the "pretty pink bra" is NOT subtle.
- The midday discovery of multiple slobber/smear/mystery barn goo stains on a shirt while in the middle of a meeting
- Or the general horror that my shirt/blouse/pants/skirt/jacket reeeaaalllly isn't fitting like it used to.
I guess Friday sort of fell in the last category. I decided to wear a classic black button up shirt, and look more "professional" than I typically do for our blue collar office. I try to class it up every once in a while just in case people might assume I'm doing something important, or really busy, or super impressive.. (god forbid they realize mostly I just blog and google horsey things).
Anyway, I got to work, hung up my coat, plopped my purse and then plopped myself into my desk chair... and felt a breeze.
"that's weird," I thought as I felt a draft on my belly.. then realized that my buttons were UNDOING themselves from the strain of sitting.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a prepared girl, and I'm used to buttons "straining," particularly in the bust region, which is why I have Hollywood Tape stashed everywhere. Purse, Desk, Bathroom.. you name it. In fact, I had reinforced a few button areas that morning to keep my shirt from gaping, but apparently my shirt was not impressed by some measly double sided tape.
I stood up, rebuttoned, straightened my shirt and sat back down.
Stood up... rebuttoned... straightened... sat back down...
Grrrrrrr... Jacket went BACK on, and I sat the rest of the day somewhat peeved, and constantly fiddling with my shirt.
By the end of the day I had lost not one, but two buttons due to the strain/constant re-buttoning which rendered my shirt, less of a shirt, and more of a smock... it also rendered my confidence at an all time low.
The darling part was that when The Boy returned home and found me splayed on the couch, shirt unbuttoned and watching TV, he thought it was (somehow) sexy... and intentional. Not the result of a too-tight shirt and sheer laziness.
God bless him.
Where's the gym again??