Are big girls wearing jammies to the office? I must've missed that memo!

Hello my friends!

So, coming as a surprise to almost no one, the third shift gig is starting to wear on me a tiny bit.  Don't get me wrong.  The company I work for is a GREAT COMPANY.  The starting pay and benefits are great.  However, due to my own budgetary needs, I need to work 3rd shift, and 1)  I'm not sure I like never knowing what day it is  and 2)  the job is waaaaaaaaaay more physical than this old girl is up for.  (If you're short, beware, everything I have to lift, carry, get, use, and put away is stored up over my head.)

Anyway, I've gotten serious about finding another office job.  You know, one where I get weekends off like normal people, where two days off in a row is not considered a vacation, and where no one is suggesting I drink wine at 6 AM.  (Okay, I'm not completely against that last thing.) 

Let me just say I have NEVER had to wear "business" clothes to work.  Never.  Not ever.  Not once.  When I was a teacher I wore "teacher clothes" which generally consisted of black twill pants and a polo shirt or a sweater or a denim jumper.  (yes, I went through my denim jumper phase.  We all did, so hush.)

Once married, I got a job in an office where "business casual" meant black twill pants and a nice top.  Once I had kids I worked for a cleaning company...in my basement.  When I would emerge to do sales calls, again, black twill pants and a nice top.  (Do we see a pattern here?)

Having worked alone in an office where no customers stepped foot for five years, I'll admit that my work wardrobe deteriorated down to sweats and a t-shirt most days. 

Thusly, when I received a phone call the other day, setting up an interview, the woman told me to "wear business dress."

Had she been speaking Chinese I could not have been more confused.  "Business dress" is not a term I've ever, you know, put in the same sentence as my name. 

Undaunted, I went to Kohl's, armed with those great merchandise cards I got when I returned the two pairs of Gloria pants that about killed me, the two white polo shirts that are, well, white polo shirts, and the Sketchers shape ups that nearly destroyed my feet in one night.  (I didn't have a receipt, so Kohl's gave me merchandise cards.  I love Kohl's!)  Bonus, I brought along Hubby, who brought along his Kohls' card and a 30% off coupon.

I pointed out three perfectly suitable outfits in the "business section" and told Hubby I was now going to find those outfits in the "fluffy girls" department. 

Yeah, right.  Sorry, Vera Wang doesn't design for anything above a very small 14. 

Kohl's Fluffy Girl department isn't great.  I shop there more than any other store because 1)  It's a mile better than just about every other discount big box store and 2) the price is usually right.  But someday I might have enough money to go look at the miles and miles of pretty fluffy clothing at Macy's or Boston Store, or, dare I say it?  Lane Bryant!  (Or, I know you're all saying, I could just lose the darn weight!)

I pulled a couple dresses and a very nice pair of dressy pants and some tops and headed to the trying on room.  (my first mistake.  I hate those stupid little rooms.  It's like getting naked in a closet...a closet that's really over lit and has been used by about 10000 other people who may, or may not have left stuff behind.) 

Yes, I'm only a size 16...not I'm not expecting.  Why do you ask?

First of all, dresses for big girls.  Did I miss something?  Are we big girls now just saying it's okay to wear maternity clothes?  Because I put on two dresses, both of which had "waistbands" that tied right until my boobs, giving the rest of the garment a sort of tent effect over my gut and butt.  The result?  I looked like I was about four sizes bigger...and 8 months along.

So I tried on the pants.  Again, since this is SUMMER, apparently those who work in "business attire" are allowed to wear shorts or something because just finding a full length pair of pants was a challenge.  But I had a nice Dana Buchman top (I'm saying these names like I have any idea who these designers are.  I don't.) so I picked up the corresponding pair of black pants.

The top, for the record, looked great. 

The pants, on the other hand...well, they were essentially pajama pants.

COME ON!

I looked in the Misses department.  There are no jammies there.  Thin women are not supposed to wear pajamas to the office.  Why are designers making fluffy women do so? 

And not only were these pajama pants, they weren't even flattering.  Again...they made me look like I was a foot shorter and four sizes bigger.

I'm not going to lie. I was enraged. Bigger women work in offices, I've seen them.  And they have nice clothes.  Then again, maybe all the big women I've seen are really just a 1x but because of the way the clothes look on them, they look bigger.

Maybe there is no obesity problem in this country...maybe it's just that those of us who aren't a size 6 are forced to wear clothes that amplify our extra size.

See this suit?  Don't I look ready for business?  Smart?  Successful?  Well, big girls, we don't make this outfit in your size!  EVER!

Well, I haven't given up.  I mean, that dress was super comfy and who wouldn't want to wear jammies to work?  (Okay, I had that job...and I quit it. So let's move on.)  But I have NOT GIVEN UP!  I'm not a house, I'm a woman with a little extra bigness. 

Hey, plus sized girls:  NO SUIT FOR YOU!

I went back to the drawing board and...thank goodness for Sag Harbor.  Unfortunate name aside, Sag Harbor actually designs decent clothes for actual women.  Bonus, while they still were selling Capri pants as business attire  (And seriously, maybe I just don't know anything, but I can't see a business person wearing Capris to work) there were some actual, honest to goodness, reach down to the floor PANTS.

So I had a suit top, a top to go on under the suit top, a pair of pants, and an interview bra.  All I needed was...

Oh, what, you've never heard the term, "interview bra?"

Well, my friends, an interview bra is, as it is called, the bra you wear to interviews.  It's maybe not the most comfortable bra you own, but it points the girls in the proper direction.  Who is going to hire someone for a detail oriented job when the interviewee can't even keep track of which way the girls are pointing?  The interview bra doubles as the concert bra, the difference being that one does not wear a t-shirt over the interview bra.  One wears a nice top and then a suit top of some sort.

Moving on...

I had the interview bra, the top, the suit top, and the pants.  All I needed was the black shoes.

I know, those of you who know me know that I have 1)  a ton of shoes and 2) a half ton of black shoes.

But I needed specific INTERVIEW shoes.  Shoes that made me a little taller.  Shoes that didn't howl "I've given up on dress shoes and this black sport type shoes is as good as it's getting."

I found a nice pair of slip ons that had a bit of a heel, didn't seem too "comfortable" and yet didnt' pinch my feet.

Now, the buying part.  None of this was on clearance.  Okay, everything was about 30-40% off, but honestly, if you're buying full price at Kohl's, you aren't trying at all.  Rung up total for this outfit before coupons:  $127.  Then we had the 30% off coupon, and the merchandice cards.

Final total

$2.83.

Yes, you see that correctly.  Hubby whipped out $3 in cash and we were on our way.

And will I be wearing this outfit to every interview?  Yep.  And will I be returning part or all of the outfit if, after about three months, I don't have a new job?

Well, that would be wrong...right?  LOL!

I finally go down a size...but not where I expected!

Good afternoon!

Whew!  This Monday is getting away from me big time!  My day job is really getting in the way of my observations of my own boondoggle of a life.  If I didn't love paying my bills and keeping my mortgage on my house up to date, I'd quit and blog all day!

Okay, so after these many weeks of working out under the watchful..I can't use the word NAGGING...eye of dear Dee, I am pleased to say that yes, I've lost about five pounds.  Whoop de do.  But over the weekend, someone far more exciting happened!  I dropped a size!

Unfortunately, it was a shoe size.

Seriously...this is where I'm losing weight?  My feet?

I was sort of hoping maybe gut, butt, or face...but my feet?  Who even looks at my feet?  10 months out of the year it's too cold to wear anything but fully enclosed shoes.  Who looks at a woman and says, "Oh she's really pretty, except for her fat feet!"

But no, after all these weeks of working out and actually watching what I eat a bit, I lost a size on my feet.

I discovered this by accident.  See, I've had problems with my feet for years.  Going back to high school, when I was a waitress and my ankles swelled after a long shift.  College, the swelling got worse, so I got arch supports to relieve the strain on my feet.  Apparently my arches had fallen.  I should have seen then that gravity was not going to be kind to me.

After college and deep into married mom life, I developed a cute combination of heal spurs/plantar faciatis.  This made walking really painful.  Again, more medical appliances crammed into my shoes.  I suppose it shouldn't have been much of a surprise when I went from an 8 to an 8.5. 

Oh, and then there's the fun little fact that my feet are two different sizes.  My left foot, since forever, is half a size smaller than my right.  Which means every shoe I get is so large on my left foot that my foot slides around, causing more stress and more pain.

In the last year, my left foot has given up the fight and now swells up to a half a size larger than my right.

Yes, it's fun being me.

Well, since I've been having far more foot pain than normal in the last few weeks, I decided to break down and spend some serious buckage on new shoes.  Not fancy shoes.  Just solid shoes that would cradle my poor, damaged, Tootsies.  I'm not a person who shops certain labels.  I look for price.  I'm a bargain hunter.  I'll wear any crap shoe as long as the price is right.  Which is probably why I was limping around the Johnson Creek outlet mall on Saturday.

I love Merell shoes, and my favorite pair is my bright pink mules.  That's first pair I had to replace since mine were broken down and made my feet smell really really bad.  I tried on the 8.5.  It's a size I've worn since Peaches was born.  It seemed a tiny bit loose, so I dug out an 8.  Sure enough, the 8 fit light a glove.  My feet were happy! 

Well, my blue suede Merells were also getting nasty, so I looked around for something a bit more wintry.  I found a lovely pair of leather mules lined with fur.  And blue suede!  (Peaches informed me it was a weird color blue, so I had to go with the black, non suede shoes.)  Again, size 8 felt like a second skin.

Okay, that's fine for those bulky hiking type shoes.  But at the Nike outlet, where I searched for an inexpensive pair of work out shoes, I was certain I'd be getting an 8.5  Nike's are always snug on me, so I didn't even both looking for anything smaller than an 8.5

Until I tried a pair on.

Egads...weeks and weeks of working out actually worked!  I HAVE SKINNY FEET!

Apparently, I now need "Fat shoes" and "skinny shoes."

So, I guess I'm just losing weight from the ground up.  Given the rate of sag the rest of my body has, I figure weight loss and fat sag will meet in the middle...somewhere around my rear, say, mid January.

So I've got that to look forward to.

Crossing the line with other people's shoes.

Good morning!

There is an old adage that says, "There is a fine line between love and hate."  I know this line all too well.

It is well documented how I feel about shoes. However, there is a dark side to my love of footwear.  Other people's shoes.  More specifically, other people's shoes lying around my house.

Moms know exactly what I mean about this.  There are four people living in my house.  Since forever, there have only ever been four people living in my house.  Yet, on any given day, there are no less that seven pairs of shoes strewn about the living room, looking like passed out revelers after a three day drunk.  Sideways, askew, and generally not even close to their mates, these shoes clutter up the one room I care about.  It's as if the Rockettes did a routine in my living room wearing sports shoes.

And don't even get me started on the smell.  Hey, I have stinky sports shoes, too.  Which is why I put my shoes in my room, or, on very rare occasions, in the front hallway where they stand, side by side, ready for a quick escape.  But the other three people who live in my house kick off their shoes with a wild sense of abandon. 

 

But that's not the worst.  The real kicker...get it, kicker, hah...is that then these loose shoed people have the AUDACITY to wander around the house in the morning, asking ME where THEIR SHOES ARE!

This has gone on since the day Skippy put on his first pair of Brown Shoes.  I've been tripping over shoes for almost 17 years.  There were times, many of them, when I tried to clean up this crime by simply hiding the shoes.  Hey, it's fair, right?  You leave them in my room, I'm going to hide them.

My dear friend, Marie, informed me that that was cruel.  So I stopped.

I 'll be honest, I'm not as nice as Marie.  I still want to hide shoes.  Especially since, now that the children are teens, they blame me for hiding their shoes anyway.  So I get the blame, but not the fun.

Seriously, this is an actual conversation I had with Skippy last week.  Bear in mind, this conversation was held at 6:45 AM, when everyone is late for everything  (picture, if you will, the morning scenes from ABC's "The Middle."  Yep, that's us.)  and I am at that time of day when I have to decide if I have enough time for a shower before work or not.

Skippy:  Where are my shoes?

Sarah:  There are  three pairs of your shoes in the living room.

Skippy:  None of them is my black pair.

Sarah:  Well, I don't know...I don't touch your shoes.  They are where you left them.

Skippy:  No, because then I'd know where they are.  So where did you put my shoes?

Sarah:  I didn't touch them.  Have you looked in the living room?

Skippy: Yes, like four times.  And I'm late, so if I'm late for school it's your fault.

Sarah:  So wear one of the other three pairs.

Skippy:  I need to wear my black shoes.

Sarah:  (Dropping everything to search for the shoes.)  Here they are, under the blanket you threw on the floor last night when you went to bed.

Skippy:  You put them there.

Sarah:  I don't have that kind of time or energy in my day.

Skippy:  Whatever.

Mom:  You wouldn't be in this predicament if you'd keep your shoes in your room.

Skippy:  (unintelligible muttering as he slams the front door.)

Hubby:  Have you seen my black work shoes?

Friends, I've tried designating a spot in the front hall for shoes.  I even put a basket by the front door for a while...that seems to work for a lot of people.  But no, my family would rather go throw Shoe Drama Theater on a daily basis than actually put their shoes in one spot.  I wouldn't even care if that spot was dead in the middle of the livingroom.  At least there'd be some vague sense of thought in that. 



 I have a tendency to walk through the house late at night or in the early mornings, either ending my day or starting it, in the dark.  I'm sort of like a bat, I can navigate easily.  However, I cannot count the times I've tripped over a shoe and then fallen.  And now that we have a cat, trying to avoid stepping on the cat while not tripping over shoes has tested whatever acrobatic talent I have.  (Which, if you read this blog, you know I don't have.)

There's fine line between love and hate.  And I know I'm supposed to love the shoe flinger, and hate the shoe flinging instead, but honestly, this is a test of my patience.  No, I won't revert again to hiding shoes.  When I finally do snap, I'll do something big...big and noisy and probably something that involves fire.

So that's something to look forward to  I guess.



This level of organization and peace in the Middle East.
Two things that aren't going to happen.



Wait! I need to get my dressy shoes back from Goodwill!

Good afternoon!

I love shoes.

Let me say that again. 

I love shoes. 

I love shopping for them, I love trying them on, I love buying them, and I love wearing them, and matching them with different outfits.  Shoes, unlike any other piece of clothing, do not judge.  You may have big feet, but there's no such thing as a "plus size" department for shoes where they make really ugly, tent like shoes that are not flattering.  You may get bigger or smaller in your life, but your shoe size, typically, will stay the same.  After the birth of my kids, my shoes size went up a half a size.  My dress size, on the other hand....


I have owned, at any one time, no less than six pairs of black dress shoes. And I'm not even a person who buys a lot of shoes. You have to have no fewer than four pairs of black dress shoes, because you simply never know what is going to work best with the outfit you pick. The right shoe can make all the difference when an outfit is perhaps a bit lack luster.  So I was ready for anything, with my six.  I had a two pairs of black pumps, one patent leather (I love that shine) and one not.  Then you've got to have the flats.  I don't like flats, they make my legs look thicker than they already are, but you have to have a pair of dressy flats.  And of course, there's the bulkier shoe you have to have when you wear slacks in the winter.  Maybe a bit chunky, but solid and warmer and every bit as nice as any of the others.  Then I had two pairs of boots, one a cute slouchy pair and one, my favorite shoe, a backless pair of boots.  You read that right.  Backless boots.  I get a lot of looks in this, especially when I wear them to church.  Nothing so titillating as an ankle up there at the Communion rail.

Six pairs of shoes...all black.  And then, in a shoe conquest I'll never forget, I got a 7th.  A shiny, sparkly pair of shoes with a 5 inch stiletto heel and rhinestones from stem to stern.  Spaghetti thin straps I  barely knew I had shoes on.  (Well, except for the searing pain in the balls of my feet when I hoisted my rotundness up on them.)  Beautiful shoes. 

I was ready for any sort of dressy affair that might come along.

Which is what I figured yesterday when I went to my closet to put together an ensemble for the theater.  I'm going to see "Wicked" with Peaches, Hubby, and Marie and her boy tomorrow.  I have to have just the right outfit for this event.  Since I don't get out often, I have a very casual wardrobe, but dug way in the back and found something suitable.  All I needed was the right pair of dress shoes.

I dug and dug and dug for my dress shoes to no avail.  Oh sure, I found the beauty shoes, but I'm not wearing 5 inch stilettos for a whole evening.  Sorry, my limit on those shoes is two hours on Christmas Eve.  Because nothing says, "Celebrate the Birth of our Savior" like some really sexy shoes.  I found my backless boots, but since I'm wearing slacks the allure of either of those is lost.  Where were my flats?  Where are my pumps?  Where are my solid slacks shoes?

What I did find were three pairs of running shoes.  (I know...)  I found my pair of pink clogs, that I love.  I found my blue suede slip on shoes with the hiker sole.  I located a pair of red mary janes...with the hiker sole.  I found my steel toed hikers  (Just in case I ever go hiking in a steel mill) and I found three pairs of flip flop sandals, all in varying (but low) degrees of fanciness.

Apparently, while I wasn't looking, the shoe fairy came to my closet and replaced all my pretty shoes with athletic, comfortable, and wildly colorful casual footwear.  Either the shoe fairy wants me to exercise more, of she thinks I'm an 80 year old with bad feet and a whimsical love of color.

Okay, I do have bad feet and a bad knee.  When I left the corporate office world behind to raise Skippy and Peaches, I lost my need for fashionable footwear.  When you babysit, you need shoes that are going to get you from point A to point B many, many, many times quickly.  When you clean office buildings for 12 years, running shoes with good support are vital.  When you unload trucks full of retails wares, a steel toed boot is the difference between having toes and...not.  Then of course there was that car accident where I messed up my knee. (More on that another day.  It's a funny story.)

The pink clogs I won on a radio contest.  Not directly, but I did.  True story.  Two years ago I won a trivia contest called, "You Still Can't Win."  (It's on the Bob and Brian morning show on 102.9 The Hog in Milwaukee.  Brilliant show.  I still play from time to time.)  One of the prizes was a $300 gift card to Rogan's shoes.  Rogan's specializes in athletic and outdoor shoes.  And they have a buy one, get the second half off sale all the time.  So when I went in there, everyone got shoes.  And I found these beautiful Merrell clogs.  I loved them.  I tried on all the different colors.  I didn't want to love the pink ones, but I did.  (I have a thing about pink.  More on that another day.) 

The blue and red shoes, also Merrells, I got on eBay.  See, I love Merrell Shoes, I don't love their daunting prices.

Okay, so I haven't needed a pair of fancy shoes in a long time, but come on...I'm a shoe hoarder! Where are my shoes? 

I had a Winnie the Pooh moment where I sat amongst my piles of sensible shoes and thought and thought and thought.  And then I realized something:


Think, think, think...where are my pretty shoes?  And while we're at it, where are my pants?

I don't have any dresses, either.  I stopped wearing them when I had to wrangle kids in church and I realized that the easiest way to crawl under a pew to retrieve a book or toy thrown by a child was to wear something that was NOT a skirt.

On a side note, since I don't wear dresses, I don't wear pantyhose.  And I don't have to shave my legs nearly as often.  Like from September to May, not at all.  That's a big time savings right there.

No dresses, no need for dress shoes.  The dresses and the shoes went to Goodwill. My solid slacks shoes wore out and I simply didn't replace them.  My pumps, gone.  Can't wear them, I have circulation problems in my toes, and I'd rather be able to feel my toes than have stylish footwear.  My super high heels: I can only wear once a year.  Flats:  Can't wear them...bone spurs in my heels, and flats don't offer enough cushion.  My slouchy boots, so cute?  Stinky...so cute at concerts, but so cheap in material.  Gone.

So I'm faced with a dilemma.  I can either wear the blue suede shoes, which aren't that dressy, but match the outfit sort of.  I can wear the backless boots, and suffer through numb toes and sore feet, and bad heels for minimal effect.

Or...

I can go shoe shopping! 

I believe I feel a quick lunchtime shopping trip coming on!