Here it is the end of June and I hadn't done my yearly round up of swimwear yet! This is the segment of the show where I laugh at swimsuits, sometimes just the pictures! I was afraid this year would be some slim pickins what with the economy and all. I thought all I'd see was rehashed triangle pieces from last year. But no, gotta give those designers credit... still pulling it out of their asses even now.
This is a popular design at Victoria's Secret this year. I call it the band-aid. (P.S. Victoria's Secret models are too skinny. TOO SKINNY! Someone feed that girl a hot dog.) ((P.P.S. See that little wisp of fabric? Budget crunch!))
I don't know what is so disturbing to me about this one. By itself, I'd say it was cute. Maybe it's the pierced belly button. And the small dog. AND the tattoo-printed scrunchy around that dog's neck. (Is that a scrunchy? Who would do that?) Maybe it's the fact that Ed Hardy (and his knock-off competitors) do not need to branch out into areas they have no business being. I swear I saw Ed Hardy snack cakes the other day. No one needs Ed Hardy snacks.
"I sprained my boob gardening and now I have to wear this sling!"
"OMG. So my best friend in math class drew this really cool picture just for me on my notebook with stars and hearts, because stars are like my special symbol, and it was in all my favorite colors and I loved it so much that I haven't even thrown away the notebook even though it's summer and then I found a swimsuit that looked just like it!! It's like destiny."
It's overalls. On a swimsuit. Extra shiny, too, in case you want to use your headlights... as headlights. Yeah.
Just plain ugly. By the way, making her extra tan does not mean she'll pass as ethnic.
I have an all day work meeting on Wednesday and yet I have so few work-appropriate clothes left in my closet that 1) fit, 2) aren’t all dusty/stretched out/bleached on the shoulders from hanging too long, and 3) aren’t WAY out of style, so, you know, finding a nice outfit can be a challenge. (Plus, you remember that I hate work clothes, right? Did them too many years. However, fashionista shit is OK. (Also, I get easily bored so even if I came up with nice outfits for weeks on end for my one-day-in-the-office-per-week stint I’m not going to *psshhh* repeat! Because then I would be me boring myself. (Yes, I know no one else would notice.))) Anyway, I grabbed a shirt for a test-wear that I’d forgotten I bought well before pregnancy (so that would be like, what? placing it in the realm of early 2000s? When all the GAP models were still showing their navels everywhere?) threw it on, reminiscing about how cute this top used to look, like that one time I wore it to go see Dave Chappelle pre-Comedy Channel era (OK, granted, it was more a “club” top… being black and mod/lace and a little clingy and somewhat see-through but trust me, with a nice tank underneath and a good jacket I could totally make it work-appropriate. Kind of.) and…
Like I stole clothes from a 12-year old.
Like the Hulk busting out in the after-hours disco.
Like I’m a camel toe away from cougars-ville.
Not quite the office look I’m going for.
(Though, I did briefly feel quite busty (for a gal without cleavage).) - the weirdgirl
A strange phenomenon is happening as I get older… I’m becoming a bag lady. Well, in truth, I’ve always been a bag lady. I was condemned to walk this path from the time my virgin hands clutched that first purse. Red, it was, spaghetti strap handle, barely big enough to hold an iced cherry chapstick, my allowance, and a compact with the entirely wrong shade of powder (ah, 80s makeup jaw line, I remember you well!). That purse went with me everywhere.
So it’s not really a surprise, is it, that that purse was eventually replaced with another. And then another, into a long succession of can’t-live-withouts.
Here’s the thing… I’ve always considered myself a compact sort of girl. I like small silverware, small chairs, small cars, and above all small purses. You carry too big of a purse and you’re just bound to carry a bunch of crap you don’t need. (And being slightly packrat-ish I needed to fight that at all costs.) Plus, I’m a petite woman and a huge purse just makes me look like I’m gonna fall over.
So, you know, when the ginormous purses came out as the “it” bag I wasn’t having none of it. Anything that was “go anywhere satchel”-sized was just too damn big. Purses big enough to carry a portfolio in, or a few dozen groceries, were completely out of the picture. If I needed to carry my computer, I took along a computer bag… and my small purse. If I needed a diaper bag, I took along a diaper bag… and my small purse.
But something definitely changed along the path. I didn’t happen right after the baby, it was more insidious than that. I had noticed that my purses had gotten slightly larger over the years, oh very slightly, since that first bright red bag. Which is natural considering eventually I had more than five bucks to spend, and learned how to put on more makeup than chapstick. I really starting seeing a difference right around when Chance turned two…
I got really sick of carrying around two bags.
Slowly but surely, I started using totes to consolidate all my goodies. (Totes are the gateway purse, you know.) I didn’t need quite as many supplies for Chance but I still needed some. Then, the next purse I bought was a little bigger, just because all those pictures were stretching my wallet out a bit. Then the next purse (yes, I have a collection)… well you can see where this is going.
For Christmas Keen bought me this kick-ass Marc Jacobs bag. I LOVE it! (I didn’t even ask for a purse this year. He is just an extra special man.) And it’s pretty much the biggest purse I’ve ever owned. (Which still, compared to all the “it” bags, isn’t even all that big.) But I had some trepidation – given the small woman weighted down against hurricanes look. Except…
It fits ALL my stuff! (Oh yeah, baby just like that.) I’ve pretty much been carrying that purse alone everywhere. I even mentioned to Keen that I’d love one in the same size in black.
So that’s it… I’m definitely on a downward slope. I’ll be that old lady who needs a shopping cart to push her purse around, I just know it. With blue hair and a million sweaters. (Nah, I’ll go for peach hair. Rock on Dame Edna!)
Don’t worry, I’ve made peace with the situation. However, promise if I start carrying around small pets, somebody will slap me. - wg
We had a nice anniversary dinner Friday night, but Chance had a really bad fever (104 and climbing) when we got home - which the unnamed older relatives failed to notice. (They won’t be babysitting when he has the “sniffles” anymore.) Then I got sick Saturday morning and Keen is fighting it off now. This is an ugly one, folks.
Anywho, I’ve been making my way through the mountain of mail-order catalogs that we get every year. Might as well make a dent in the Christmas shopping since you can’t do much else! (Catalogs are like picture books for grownups.) So here are a few observations from my fever-addled mind…
Pottery Barn Kids – You know, at this point, I peruse your fine catalog just to see how many ways your concept of feminism has gone wrong. (Oh who am I kidding? Feminism doesn’t exist in Pottery Barn land.) My favorite: the bunk bed/kitchen playset combo… Oh, little girls! Here is your deepest fantasy made real… and by the way, the lesson learned here is you may go directly from the bedroom to the kitchen only, you will not pass Go, you will not collect $200. AND you will love pink. So it is decreed.
Gag. I mean, I know I may have a daughter some day who may go apeshit for the pink bunk bed/kitchen playset but that doesn’t need to be the ONLY option. I notice Pottery Barn Kids has a lot more creative themes for boys. WTF?
Viva Terra – Great concept, everything in here is “green” (or maybe this was just their green catalog, I don't know)… and I can’t afford a flipping thing! Or rather, there is no way in hell I’m paying their prices for “recovered” (free) and “reclaimed” (used) items. Especially, when they’re “helping” villagers in third world countries who make these items. So you pay the village, what? $5 bucks and I pay $279 for a step stool? I’m all for both eco-living and artistic recycling but give me a break. I think you’re defeating the purpose of going green when the markup is 500%.
OK, yeah, being sick makes me a little cranky.
What On Earth – There are always a few gems in this, the book of kitsch, and I look through it every year for those few hard-to-shop-for people. But seriously, about halfway through, the cutesy starts to kill me. The un-PC cutesy, mind you. I honestly think my head imploded, just a little, while I flipped through the pages. (BTW, for those of you planning on showering me with gifts, just because I’m a “cat-lover” does NOT mean I want a pencil sharpener where I ram the pencil up the cat’s ass. Thanks. (I mean, that doesn’t even make sense.))
Uncommon Goods – I love this catalog! Somehow it also has lots of artistic and recycled items, but it doesn’t come off as pretentious. (Can be a bit pricey, and full of things I don’t need… but I want them! Like the Caia Koopman Rehab Wallet Case, oh my god!) However, I know I’m a little off. Really, I do. Because as I’m looking at these items the split personality kicks in. Such as the 12 ways you’ve made a difference journal that features helpful prompts for writing like, “The best advice you ever gave me…” and the one half of me thinks, “Aw! It’s empowering AND sweet!” (I think that’s the side connected to my ovaries.) But the uncontrollable smartass side of me responds… “The best advice you ever gave me was… nothing! That’s what! All your advice was bunk, you hack! Stinky wind without two nickles to rub together. I got myself where I’m at and I’ll get myself where I’m going! You’re just kissing my ass for when I take over, anyway. But don’t worry, I’ll remember. I remember everything. Bwa ha ha!”
And I’m pretty sure that’s where evil geniuses begin.
Can I just talk about how much Kenley of Project Runway fame is getting on my nerves? I don't usually take a strong dislike to people on TV (because it's TV), but really... it is like she is fraying my nerves with a stitch ripper. I feel a little bad because she actually looks a lot like my hairdresser (whom I adore and is also into super cute retro looks) and whenever I first see her (Kenley) I think, "How cute!" but then she just opens her mouth and rolls her eyes disdainfully and it's all over. She is also loud. When you can tell a person is louder than everyone around them through the TV - especially since TV production crews have that magic of sound control - there's a problem. And she is rather cackle-ly. And I am the first person to appreciate a really good cackle because there are times when a cackle just conveys a certain spirit and energy and non-conformist - I might even say, risque - comraderie that simply works in the everyday mostly (sadly) cackle-less world (my mom, for example, can let loose a great cackle)... but when Kenley does it it just sounds cocky and mean. Cackling Kenley, I think that's my new nickname for her.
I'd invite her to wear a pointy hat but being a fan of witches I'd just be insulting myself. She's already insulting cacklers.
Last Friday I was awarded the Kick Ass Blogger award by VegasDad.
Of course, I didn't realize for a couple of days that I had been given an award as I was distracted by the whole Bigfoot thing. (Speaking of which, did you see the Yeti story?!) Actually, it's probably good I was awarded before the Bigfoot post went up because I kind of doubt I would have gotten the award otherwise. That was a tad outside the realm of traditional mommy blogging (albeit TOTALLY fun!). It's not like there's a Things SAH Parents Do to Keep From Going Insane award!
There should probably be one like that, though. Hmmm, something to think about.
I shall now bestow the award on to five more bloggers who kick some serious booty! Da da duh!
It's time again for the annual swimsuit roast! This is where I gather samples of hideous designer swimwear - or even just the pictures I think are amusing - to mock and point at. And also to warn you all of the dire perils of swimsuit shopping! Really, it's a nefarious industry. Trust me, I'm doing this for your own good.
(Though, I admit, I did find a line this year that I really really liked (not that I could afford any of the suits). Very retro and the line was called... Pistol Panties. HA! Pistol panties... that name so rocks!)
If you are new to this segment of wg's house you can see where it all began here, here and here. Now on to this year's winners.
Take me, Q*bert! Take me!
Sometimes you feel like a wax... sometimes you don't.
Too weak... to break... bonds of twine... Help me!
When you just feel like dual purpose clothing... for the slumber party AND the beach! (Everyone lock up your 'tween daughters now.)
OK, now I know the clothing companies aren't trying anymore... I saw this same "bikini" on sale as Valentine's Day intimates! (And it's not even Victoria's Secret.)
Could it be... military intelligence?!
Who says you can't get gift wrap services anymore?
As I was staring at a whole aisle of Barbie products,
shopping for an upcoming birthday party, I realized that, whereas I know the
whole princess phase starts kicking in about now, I have no idea where
three-year-old girls are at developmentally. For example, do three-year-olds want the big doll whose hair they can
brush? Or do they want the smaller dolls
that are so cute with the snap on
outfits? Do they want to dress the dolls yet? Or just walk them up and down their imaginary
castles? Are they into the big
sister/little sister role model combo? Or are they identifying with… what?
I have a boy, see. If
I was shopping for my son I’d immediately go for the smaller versions that came
as a set and could be play acted in a variety of scenes, plus fit into really small spaces or easily hung from string,
balanced on small cars, survive falls from high places, etc.
I had to accost some poor man, who I overheard on his phone
discussing which dolls his daughter already had, (yes, I totally eavesdropped)
to ask questions about what little three-year-old girls were doing with dolls
these days. (Went for the big doll for
maximum dressing and hair styling potential, BTW.) Thank goodness he was there, because I was
just sort of lost. I’m great with older
girls, from about five all the way up to the teens (I’m the cool aunty). I know that I would have gone ape-shit for all the fairy and mermaid crap if
they had that when I was a kid (not so much for the princesses, but I AM a
scifi/fantasy nerdette (But still cool.)). But I just wasn’t sure how Barbie was playing on the three-year-old
spectrum. And they have A LOT of
I really like Barbie, actually, though my true appreciation
of her came after I was a kid. I did a
whole paper on her in college; a feminist, post-Freudian analysis of her role
as a signifier in our society. My basic
theory was Barbie is the original and ultimate Woman because her psyche/sense
of self wasn’t defined through a realization that she doesn’t have a penis. Because Ken doesn’t have one. (Because, you know, that’s what Freud thought
we were doing… defining ourselves through the lack… it’s tied up with that dumb
penis envy theory!) Barbie was also
truly the Other woman (in the literary sense of Other), and is simultaneously
set apart yet also a source of incredible power in her non-Freudian, therefore
self-defining femininity. See? OK, that was probably totally confusing, but it
made sense in my paper. (And I got an A,
because sometimes being a smartass, backed up with good research works out for
you.) Some tidbits from my research… #1 Barbie’s
much maligned body proportions were made that way to compensate for the clothes
– when you make clothes that small you get an interesting bulkiness in
places. Once they adjusted her
proportions the clothes looked more “normal” on her. #2 Barbie WAS designed based off a German
sexy, joke doll!
I personally find Barbie’s long, evolving history, the early
smarmy marketing tactics (more on that later if anyone wants to hear), the
feminist/anti-feminist debates, the ongoing controversy she generates – even
today with all the over-merchandised princess crap - to be all rather
delicious. Whether you like her or not
no one can deny that Barbie has power!
However, my love for her as a child was much simpler: I loved the clothes. And the shoes! All those little slip-on mules! Barbie was, in a nutshell, fabulous. However, my family was also kind of poor so I
didn’t get many brand-new, Barbie clothes (or new clothes for myself, for that
matter). Or I got the K-mart knock-off
doll’s duds. Mainly, I made her little
outfits myself from fabric remnants, which actually opened up vast vistas of
fashion and make believe… my Barbie was an adventurer, a sky-diver as well as a
pilot, always in some new place with a new skill; she could take on
anything! As long as she could do it in
coordinating tube tops and straight skirts (which were also tubes). Because that’s all I could sew. I did have a few snazzy scarves thrown in
there as well.
So is it any wonder given my convoluted relationship with
her that I, along with buying the birthday gift, ended up buying myself this:
So fabulous! The highly
fashionable clothes, the shoes, the retro, come-hither eyes that may just lure
away all the men. A dangerous and
seductive woman, powerful yet not trashy like a Bratz doll. AND a redhead to boot! (Well, strawberry
blonde is close.) How could I resist? - wg
P.S. I also have a
preggo Barbie with the detachable tummy. The one they banned from
OK, I got a little beef to pick. (Wait, is that beef or bone? Probably bone, right? Who picks on cows?) I’ve written in the past about my issues
with undergarments. Well since then (it’s
been almost a year) I managed to find a couple new brands of undies. Yay! One style in particular that I absolutely love!
They are heavenly. No
ride up factor, fits perfectly. Beautiful,
soft material. Like cloth spun from
ripped-off angel wings on my butt. They
have become the new favorites in my knicker rotation.
However, this style also happens to look a little
granny-like. Not exactly billowing-in-the-breeze
briefs but definitely NOT Brazilian cut bikinis or sexy thongs. (I still hate thongs.) When I first found them I distinctly remember
thinking, “Hmmm, I’m not sure Keen is going to like these,” but they were So… Damn...
Comfy! And given the usual torture that
is underwear shopping I knew, granny panties or not, these were keepers.
(Because, let’s face it, if anything is going to trump sexy
it’s usually comfort. Sorry guys (as you
sit on the couch in your boxers with a stained tee halfway up your stomach).)
So imagine my surprise when the following exchange occurred…
Keen, watching me change one day, “Your ass looks SO HOT in
Ding ding ding! “Really?”
Me, craning around to look at my undies, “I thought they looked like granny
panties. I mean, they cover up a lot.”
“Whatever. They’re still hot, baby.”
(Welcome to what passes as foreplay in my house.)
I was ecstatic! Underwear that was incredibly comfortable and didn’t make me look
geriatric! Or did in a really sexy
way. Or… wait, that’s just wrong. Anyway, these suckers rocked!!
So of course, I go to order more… even at the whopping $7
dollars a pop (yeah, I know that’s a good price for underwear but I only pay $6
for my t-shirts and those have WAY more material!) and…
…they’ve been discontinued.
My sexy granny panties. Gone. Because why would anyone keep making something that was so
(No one should feel this much heartbreak so close to