House Rules Regarding Bacon- J.Lo brings it home (figurative)
- Penelope spends it (figurative)
- J.Lo fries it up (literal)
- Penelope must buy it first (literal)
Except this week, and incidentally last week too, I forgot. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe at the grocery store I passed by the bacon, saw it wasn't on sale and vetoed the idea, rationalizing it would be "better" for us anyway, to not have bacon for a week. But, it's sort of a ritual with us. Sunday morning=brunch, brunch=bacon. So buy the damned bacon, Penelope! Oh well. I forgot. Twice.
So this morning, I ended up going to the Harris Teeter. I don't mind. Normally, I'm a Lowes shopper, all the way, because of principle alone: Lowes gives you half price when you buy one BOGO item, Teeter requires a purchase of both BOGO items in order to get the "discount." It adds up, people, it adds up. But I do like Teeter on a Sunday morning, more so than Lowes because--and I know this is stupid, but--I hate the Lowes parking lot. I do. Maybe it's just too close to the AC Moore craft store, which is always absurdly crowded and reminds me of the Sundays I used to work there years ago, and the hoardes of people, and attempting to "organize" piles and piles of those velvet picture board thingies, which inevitably would topple forward onto my head after trying to cram 6 too many onto the shelf. Maybe that's it. I don't know, but the Teeter lot is just more peaceful, in my mind.
My whole problem with the grocery trip, though, and the reason I'm even telling this story, is because lately, I am FrumpMaster Funk. I'm not joking, that's me. I'm downright dowdy, and it's starting to make my fingernails sweat. J.Lo and are scheduled for a trip to the outlets soon, and let me tell you, I can't wait. Because nothing fits. I've lost all but 10 pounds of my pregnancy weight, which is fantastic, I am not so much complaining about that. The last 10 pounds may or may not go away. I'd rather it would, if I have a choice, because I notice the camera still tends to capture the double chin, which really aggravates me. The bigger problem though, is that I prefer to cover up, at this stage in time, my so-called "problem areas." That would be my sides, my ass. And this would be with shirts that actually fall to an appropriate length. But all of my old shirts, which actually do "fit," really they do, are too short, because approximately half of this baby weight I'm trying to lose is in my boobs.
Which, really, I'm so not complaining. Boobs bigger than an A-cup, woohoo! It's fantastic. But I need some SHIRTS. I swear I bought a bunch of shirts a few months ago, around my birthday, but every time I look in my closet or drawers, they seem to be mysteriously gone. Or in the form of too-hot sweaters. Or they have stains on them, like spaghetti sauce. Or I cut them accidentally with scissors. The point is, I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR WHEN I GO TO BUY BACON.
And I did (briefly) consider just doing what I did in college, which was to just wear my pjs. Yes, I was one of Those People. Was anyone else? Come on, join me. Did you go to the Wal-Mart or the campus convenience store wearing your pj pants and a holey t-shirt? It was societally acceptable back then. Or at least, I pretended it was in the name of sheer laziness. But now, not so much. We can't do that anymore. We have to wear "clothes." And not sweatpants, either, because as Seinfeld said about George, at that point, it's like you've Given Up.
Anyway, I managed to throw something together for the Bacon Trip. Nothing fancy, mind you, just some cargo pants I found a few days ago in storage from a few summers ago that happen to still fit. And a tank top. And a shirt thrown over that. It will only be 90-some degrees today, no sweat.
10 comments:
I recommend clothes in the beige-taupe-brown family so that they won't clash with the photos on the bacon packages.
Do you wear pearls with that?
Do yoga pants count, in the pj pants realm? I'm going to pretend that the answer to that is No, because I go outside the house in yoga pants, a t-shirt, and flip-flops a lot. Enough to say, "often." And I tend not to even think about that, though perhaps I should.
i think you're letting the SOUTH get to you- when really everything you/ve mentioned is pretty much california casual. i think perhaps even the shirt you're putting over your tanktop to be overdoing it and going into "semi-casual". besides big rack = tasty bacon. and at this point you're just hiding the goods... unless you're going to starbucks early in the morning, otherwise you have to breakout the juicy couture sweats.
Yoga pants are just fancy expensive pajamas.
Dammit.
I feel like yoga pants are acceptable to wear in a public place, i.e. grocery stores. You can at least rationalize that you're on your way to or from a workout, whereas with pj's, the place you're coming from or going to clearly isn't one you should share with the world. My problem with yoga pants, though, is that's the only thing I wore while pregnant, so I associate my entire collection with being bloated, crabby, achy, and generally elephant-like. I would like to have a yoga pant bonfire, in fact. But maybe it's just a matter of buying a new pair.
Or, going with the "Juicy" couture sweats, paired with, a la Emily from Gilmore's suggestion, a bra with the word "Tasty" across the front. Now that would be hot.
Only problem is that if you buy the "Juicy" couture sweats, you will no longer be able to afford the bacon.
ain't that the truth.
no. no it is not.
(just bcs)
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