There’s a reason the phrase, “getting up the nerve” exists. I think if we always had the nerve it’d no longer feel like nerve, it would just be. Not bold. Not brave. Just constant and with constants come the desire for change, no? Look at me overthinking and stalling while I try and work up the nerve.
See, yesterday was a bad day. Started a half-step out of synch and began spiraling quickly to something much worse. We tried to fix it and by we, I mean Sean. He did every little thing you wish for your husband or best friend to do, but you’re too embarrassed to ask. We almost made it, but then naps and meals and conflicting desires collided into a family-wide meltdown on the way home. Yay failure. Somehow through a haze of Lion King soundtrack, drowse-inducing heat and hand holding we made it.
This morning, despite serious indicators of another shitastic day, I turned a corner. After a brisk, but sunny walk with temperatures below 20, I found myself remembering. I walked a little faster, held my head a little taller. It was intoxicating, not a little bit, like head-to-toe chills and a smile that never wavered intoxicating.
I’d dressed for a meeting knowing that I would have to be walking outside in the cold. The pants were an unapologetic kelly green and the shirt a silky black find for our last trip west.
Here comes the part where I show my nerve. I love this shirt. Love it, love it, love it. I love that it has a ruffley front that probably flies in the face of trends but makes me feel sassy. I dig that it has a three quarter sleeve that doesn’t make me feel like my arms are too long. I am wild about the way it hangs just right so that I don’t have the to tuck or not to tuck fretting issue. I giggle at the way that the collar opening frames my neck and makes my hair look chic. Rather than choking up I feel giddy as the girls eyes pop when they see me in it. “Oooh, mom, that’s pretty.”
But the thing I love, the thing that really makes me wrinkle my nose and do the mean pretty girl laugh is…kind of embarrassing as I sit here in my too small Target sleep tshirt in day-glo coral. It feels so far off, but it’s still there.
My silky, funky, cut-just-right black shirt makes me look like I have a preserve-it-in-a-pin-up-poster-OMFG-rack.
I said it.
My boobs look good in the shirt. No air of those girls are meant for nursing, no “that shirt is cut too low and all I see is cleavage,” just pure, undeniable that shirt and that chest make beautiful music together.
As I said here, deal with it. Today this mama is owning the fact that she felt sexy. And that feels sexy and frankly with three kids a small business and part time day care, sexy can be in short supply.
You can go here and read another kind of deal with it or you can stay here and sing your own. C’mon, it feels good. What’s your good girl’s bad girl confession?
Oh Amanda you sassy, sexy momma! I love it. Heck, I'd wear that shirt twice a week!
You deserve that.
I have one pair of brown dress pants that does my ass a real favor. No other pants can live up to them.
dude, your boobs are hot. Just sayin'.
Wow, way to pick yourself up, lady! I KNEW I wasn't imagining it when I said your boobs looked good in that pic from "out west" when you were carrying Fin. Damn. Confession: my brand new preggo boobs are making me feel like sex on a stick. Yowza.
I was on yet another stroll through home depot during the middle of the day and totally got checked out by a few of the contractor types… enough to make me want to come back the next day at the same time! 😛
I am with Crystal D… order another one in a different color!!!
It ain't my rack, that's fer shur. It seemingly evaporated with the milk.
I guess I would say that my rear end reliably looks good in jeans. Add a pair of heeled sandals in summer and I feel good.
where can i get a shirt like that?
i could feel your vibe when i saw you walking down the street!
Honestly, given the picture we saw a few posts ago, I think your boobs are fine, girl!
It's nice to know you still got it, isn't it? 😉 Rock on.
Girl, you got it goin' on!
I love the pride I hear here.
My 3 1/2 inch heels and a short-ish skirt. Especially crossing my legs in an all-male meeting. 😉
Sometimes, it's just what the doctor ordered.
Dang. I haven't felt that in a looong time. Good for you.
I love it when clothes just seem made for you.
Been a long time since I had a shirt like that, let me know where I can get one, Yakel
Where can I get me a shirt like that? 'Cause these girls o' mine are tiiiiirrrrred.
Yay for finding that sexy feeling, holding on to it, relishing it and announcing it loud and proud!
And, I do recall complimenting your rack before…
And this is why I am a self-proclaimed diva – because it feels good to look good and to know you look good. I bet you looked smokin'!
Am I allowed to confess something too?
How about this, all the guys love to talk about MILFs. It gives us something to do on the soccer sidelines besides watching the game of course.