Getting Too Comfortable with the Ugly and the Work-at-Home Wardrobe

Confession: I’ve gotten a little too comfortable with the ugly

I’ve been working from home for four years now, but this past year, since starting The Travel Belles, my once fashion conscious self seems to have run away from home. I’ve looked and looked can’t find her anywhere!

Although making it easy for me to always be comfortable, the way the line has blurred between pajamas and acceptable day wear, has led to me finding myself midday in some pretty atrocious get-ups. As I make my way as a member of the stay at home work force through the weeks and years, I fear I’ve become more unable to see my downward spiral away from the hip mom with the really cute wardrobe and straight into gauzy-scarf-and-pajama-and- ponytail-clad-weird-eccentric-aunt-territory.

I’d share pictures, but why the heck would I do that? Although it won’t actually match the full glory of reality, right this minute I will tell  you I look like a demented Raggedy Ann yoga princess. If I were to put on a normal shirt, I’d look okay to answer the door, because yoga pants apparently are the new ball gown. But I’m not stupid enough to answer the door in this condition. On the other hand if I were expecting a package from Amazon and answered the door and instead encountered a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses, I’m pretty sure I would give them good reason not to come ‘a calling on this yoga pant wearing Raggedy Ann/Eleanor Rigbee in the making.

Fortunately for now anyway, I only look as if I’ve lost my mind, and am not about to answer that door. Thankfully I have a window to look out to be sure it’s all clear, before answering and pulling in the box from Amazon.

Here’s the thing that really grinds me: I know if I had to put on real clothes each morning I would have lost the five pounds (or so – gulp) that I put on over the holidays by now.  These damned yoga pants are both a little too flattering and a little too comfortable. I feel similar towards them as I would to a bad boy teenage crush. I do believe Joan Jett said it best: I totally hate myself for loving you. (“totally” addition totally mine)

That’s it. I’ve had enough. This week I’m going to get up in the morning and *gasp*, put on jeans, you know, that less comfortable ball gown from the last decade. Sure they might cut off my circulation and leave permanent marks around my abdomen, but I’m through my child-bearing years, so I think it’s pretty safe, physically speaking.

So wish me luck! It may take a couple of days, but when I can breathe again in my jeans, I plan on putting out an APB for my once fashion conscious self. I’ll keep you posted on her whereabouts. And please don’t hesitate to check up on me and ask, “What are you wearing?” I won’t think you’re a strange feign of some sort. I’ll know better.