What I Wore: Girls’ Brunch Date
I have been eyeing the Bailey 44 column dress for a few months now, and by “eyeing” I mean obsessively checking eBay. Unlike many of my eBay stories, this one doesn’t have a happy ending; I never found one within my admittedly small budget. But wait! It was not an entirely tragic ending either, because I found this lookalike and the nice seller took pity on me and let me have it for $40, shipped. (Did I ever mention how much I hate shipping fees? A lot. This dress only cost $20 to start with.) I like the dress a lot, but it’s not without its issues. It’s definitely body-conscious in the most, um, conscious way possible (more on that in a minute), and it’s a smidge shorter than I’d like. Definitely not work appropriate, on both counts. All in all, a bittersweet tale.
OK, guys, can I get personal for a minute? Can we talk … unmentionables? Specifically, shape-wear. I have 2 kids. (You’re shocked, I know. Because I never, ever talk about them.) Anyway, sometime around the 4 month mark of pregnancy round #2, my abdominal muscles were all, like, “Eff it, lady, we’re out!” I haven’t seen them since; they are probably auditioning as extras on Jessica Alba’s torso. But I digress. Post-babies, my stomach is … well, there is no nice way to say it. Smooshy. It’s smooshy. Which means that I’ve had to reconsider my previous, belligerent stance on shape-wear, at least on occasions when I’m wearing something like the dress above. And by reconsider, I mean that I went to Target and got me
the mother of all granny panties a pair of these:
These are rated for “firm” rather than maximum support, which means I can still breathe while wearing them. And at least look at a restaurant menu.
I also got a half slip, which I’m hoping will prove to be my secret weapon against skirt- and dress-static next fall and winter. As an aside, I can now answer the question “When did you first feel like a proper grown-up?” It was April 11, 2014. Because nothing, and I mean nothing, will make you feel more like you’re turning into your mom (the benchmark for adulthood, surely) than buying a slip.