If Jillian Can Do It. . .

When you think of Jillian Michaels, I'm betting the image that comes to mind is one of her dressed something like this:



Put a blouse on, wouldja?



You know that top is really just a sports bra, right?

When you hear the name Mia Hamm, doesn't this inspiring image come to mind?

Mia is SO MUCH COOLER than Jillian


While one of these women is an inspiring athlete and the other is a horsefaced bully, both are wearing sports bras.  Without a top.

I point this out to prove precedence.

It's not that I wear sports bras as a top.  Usually.

There is that one time -- days after my second child was born -- I spent10 minutes chatting with a visitor before noticing that I had forgotten to put a blouse on.   Fortunately, my visitor was the mother of 3 and she totally understood.

But as a rule, I wear a tee shirt over my sports bra. 

Honestly, I hope Jillian wears a tee when she works out.  Your abs might be great, Horseface, but that doesn't mean other people in the gym care to come in contact with your back sweat.

But sports bras are SPORTS bras.  Not sports BRAs. 

So when I finished my 10K on January 7th, and was soaking wet with sweat, and didn't want to walk ALL THE WAY to the ladies room to change into a dry shirt, I felt comfortable doing a quick switch in the lobby of the Ortiz Center.

No one else was there.

Except Mary.  And Megan.  And Mary.  And Dee.  And Amy.  But only girls.  Girls don't care.

Ok. .. one young man did happen to walk by, but I almost had the other shirt on and I am sure he didn't see me without a top.  He was looking very intently at the floor.  For some reason.

Today I had to rush to class after my workout.

It was all girls.  Mary.  And Laurie.  And Biby.  And Clarissa.

So I just changed my top real quick.

Oh yeah -- and Victor. 

But I made him turn around. 

It's not like I would change my top in front of any of the guys I usually work out with.  Except Victor -- he's totally safe.  And Omar.  Probably Lee.  Maybe Scott. 

But not Gabe, Robert, Kirby or Bill.  Especially not Bill. 

So yes, for a few seconds Vic saw my sports bra.  The thing is, it's a SPORTS bra.

And it's not like I was wearing it as a top.

Evil Twin? Just Evil.

I am not proud of myself for writing this.

I am not proud of myself for thinking it.

It's petty, insecure, catty and downright mean.

I am going to write it anyway.  And hope my mom doesn't read it because she would be ashamed of me.

I'm going to criticise someone's clothes.

Not someone famous.  In my opinion, if you are a "celeb", your fashion choices are fair game.  Don't like it?  Then quit your job.

The person I am going to criticize is a normal person.  Actually, I wouldn't call her normal.  I think she is one of the bitterest, angriest people I have met in a long time.  I have been her acquaintance for about 4 years, and she has ALWAYS been bitter and angry.  And she has always had horrible taste in clothes.

Let me paint you a picture.

This woman is probably in her 60's.  She doesn't color her hair.  She wears it in a very severe pageboy, which probably looked fine on her when she was 8.  At 60ish, it looks horrible.  She also doesn't wear makeup, but to be fair, she has lovely skin.  She's tall, and she's big.  I would put her at a size 26. 

Normally, I will  not criticize a plus size woman's clothes or style because I understand the challenges in buying stylish plus size clothes.  But she is so bitter and angry.  And mean.

Also, she doesn't like me.  She thinks I am a Pollyanna.  She actually used the word "Pollyanna". 

Of course, to someone as negative as her, even Bill O'Reilly is a Pollyanna. 

Also, she hates conservatives.  She said so.

She was a young woman in the 70's, when going natural was very "in".  She obviously doesn't care about being "in" any more. Why should she? She is in her 60's. When I am in my 60's, I will not care about being "in".  At least I am assuming that I won't care about it.  Who knows, maybe I will.  Regardless, I completely accept anyone -- especially someone in their 60's -- who doesn't care about being "in". 

I normally don't criticise her clothes because even though she is obnoxious, her lack of style isn't really of interest to me. But yesterday. O. M. G.


Yesterday, I went to a meeting and this big tall woman with the steel-grey pageboy was wearing a frilly (frilly!)  pepto-bismol pink top, pepto-pink pants and matching shoes and socks.  Pink.  PINK!  Really, really, really pink.  This on a person that seems to hate the color pink on principle. 

She looked like angry cotton candy. 

It occurred to me, as I was listening to her vent her spleen for the umpteenth time, that she and I are very alike, but very opposite.

We are both big, strong women.  We are both pretty bright.  We are both well educated. We are both readers.  We are both moms.  We are both forceful personalities.

It's just that we are so different: 

She hates change.  I thrive on it.
She is angry -- on purpose.  I'm not -- on purpose.
She is suspicious.  I am trusting.
She hates conservatives.  I am conservative.
She is a bitter atheist.  I am a joyful Catholic.
She doesn't care about style. I do.
She buys something because it fits, regardless that she looks like hell in it.  I will go naked rather than buy something unflattering.

I couldn't help but think that my violent reaction to her outfit says more about me than about her. 

Why does it bother me so much?

Are we more alike than I want to admit?  Are we secretly twins?  Am I looking at my future when I see her?

I hope not.

Please, God, anything but pink.

True Colors

I love red.

I wear it a lot.

I also wear a lot of black, camel and navy.

Red, Black, Camel & Navy are classics.  Audrey Hepburn wore these colors.  So did Jackie Kennedy and Coco Chanel. 

Stopping by my local Macy's the other day, I perused the business wear section.  I always start with the sale racks.  Know what's in the size 20 section at Macy's?

Yellow suits.

Green suits.

Pink suits.

PINK SUITS.  Shell pink.  Not Rose.  Not Magenta. Not even Carnation Pink.  Shell Pink.  Exactly the color of my skin.  I should say, exactly the color of the skin that has never been exposed to the sun.  Shell Pink sounds so much nicer than "Mary's Ass Pink", don't you agree? 

Were I to don one of these suits, I would appear to be naked.  And not a good naked, either.

Could I find anything in black?  No. 

Navy?  No.

Camel?  No.

Red?  No.  Oh wait -- here's something. 

It has sequins on it. 

Since I am not a Vegas performer, I rarely wear sequins to work.  I looked at the label half expecting it to be from the Liberace line.  Sequins.

I found suits with lots of embroidery.  Us plus size girls LOVE to look like couch cushions, lemme tell ya!  We also like clothes with anchors embroidered on them.  It makes us feel nautical. 

It's not that the suits weren't nice.  They would be lovely on a 70 year old African American woman headed to church. 

The problem is, I need something for a 45 year old Irish American woman headed to work.

I have purchased these suits before.

One year, I found a very conservative skirt suit.  The cut was good -- shawl collar and straight skirt.  The skirt was black, the jacket was. . .Kelly green.  With a black collar and cuffs.  It was about $30, which is a good price for a fully lined suit. 

So I bought it.

I wore it.

I felt like Janet Reno. 

I looked like Janet Reno (without the wash & wear hair).

I gave the suit to Goodwill.

Some designers do create attractive, classic plus size clothes.  Talbot's has a gorgeous plus size line.  So does Jones of New York.  The problem is, I have Talbot's taste and a Target budget.

So if you see  me tooling around in a pink suit?

Shaddap.  I got it on sale.

matching shoes & clutch.  Oh yeah.

Clothes Crisis

The good news is, my clothes are getting way too big.

The bad news is, my clothes are getting way too big.

So I have nothing to wear.

It's no biggie around the house - sweats are sweats.  The biggest problem is at work.  I am in management.  I am in Corporate Services, which means I am expected to get out in front of the community.

One of the gifts of fat is that when I walk into a room, everyone notices me.  I want them to say "Wow -- look at that confident, chic, beautiful woman" not "Geez lady, you look like an unmade bed". 

When your clothes don't fit -- whether they are too large or too small -- you lack polish.  Nothing says "I am not worthy" like someone who won't buy cute clothes until they reach a size 10.  I am finding that it also works the other way around.  Nothing says "Yes. I've dropped a few dress sizes but I am not sure how long I can keep this up" like walking around in baggy clothes. 

So. . . .I will go shopping.  With my birthday and Christmas money.  Hint hint.  Until then, I am wearing the same 3 pieces over and over and over and over.  And over. 

Don't forget to leave your Christmas/Hanukkah/Diwali/Eid/Halloween . .. etc memory here!