Matching your shoes to your hotel carpet…
I can’t help it, I’m obsessed with jumpsuits. I can’t decide whether it’s because I’m a child of the Seventies and I’m still lamenting the loss of my Charlie’s Angel dungarees or whether it’s the easiest way to get dressed ever – throw it on, accessorise, add some shoes and walk out the door.
I also appear to have one to suit all occasions:
- Navy pinstripe one for work
- Black tailored strapless one for black tie events (throw on a tuxedo jacket and heels – effortless yet edgy elegance)
- Wide leg chartreuse number for weddings / garden parties
- Black jersey one for “emergency, I don’t know what to wear to that party” panic buy avoidance
- Denim dungarees for lazy summer days
As I student in the Nineties I opted for playsuits and chunky boots – favouring ditsy prints, crushed velvet or distressed denim. It was just so much easier than wearing dresses – and when you grew up in the windy wilds of Scotland, at least a playsuit kept your dignity intact on particularly breezy days.
I admit that jumpsuits are not for everyone, they can involve some snazzy yoga moves to get in and out of them (sometimes with a bit of jumping to release yourself completely), underwear choices are critical, and you often have to plan bathroom breaks well in advance.
But, I still find myself yearning for more…
And I’m not alone, the fabulous people at StyleMeTraining show how it can work for you.
I’ve hardly updated this blog for the last few months – not because I don’t know what to write about, but because what’s been going on hasn’t been my story to write – and the people that I love don’t need to read about their lives through my eyes on these pages. But those same people need distractions and so I’m back, by parental demand.
In a nutshell, I’ve still been buying shoes (including the shiny happy sparkly boots that arrived in a big parcel of happiness yesterday), I’ve still been going to the gym (well, not quite so much as I should have been) and I’m still enjoying a glass of wine or two.
Mr ShoeThatAlwaysFits and I have bought bicycles (electric bikes with power assisted pedalling – so that we can race each other uphill), and well, we’re growing middle-aged disgracefully. I bought a sensible-ish folding one, but he went for a mountain bike with suspension, just because he could. His bike looks as cool as all hell but my one is way quicker from a standing start (as we discovered doing a mini grand prix in our local supermarket car park).
I’ve been to summer barbecues, wedding receptions, and have been camping in the Cotswolds. I’ve laughed and cried like no other time in my life and endeavour to be a better person, to let the people I love and who love me, know that they are always in my thoughts.
Life is way too short, but enjoy it in every way you can. Now, I’m off to ride my byocycle, I’m off to ride my bike…
With the beginnings of a pale-skinned golden glow I’ve decided to embrace this summer’s ice-cream pastels.
I’m loving these little beauties – comfortable, cute and practical – albeit I sound like an excited Shetland pony at anything above sauntering pace – clogs do not allow for ninjaesque stealth skills.
I’ll be teaming them with this baby pink cropped blazer – let’s hope the sunshine lasts longer than my patience!
MrShoeThatAlwaysFits was with me on a recent shopping trip to find the perfect pair of zebra print shoes.
He, of course, not understanding that I would never sleep again if I didn’t buy them, balked at the price. I didn’t bat an eye telling him that I would wear them so often that the underlying cost per wear would in fact be pennies. I’ve worn them pretty much constantly since.
The reason they had to be zebra print in the first place was this:
My reward for finally wearing a bikini on a recent trip to Portugal. OBB is still work in progress but a 17 year absence from bikini babe-dom has been eliminated – and if that ‘s not worth some celebratory zebra prints then I don’t know what is !
Post virus and snot-fest OBB (Operation Bikini Bod) is still on track – I’m down another dress size which means that the charity shops are getting an influx of donations, and the credit card is taking a serious hit.
This, of course, makes me very happy indeed. But my work-wear wardrobe is shrinking at an alarming rate. It was already pretty much a capsule wardrobe, and it’s getting more compact and bijoux by the day. I’m so close to my end goal that I could almost strip off and dance around in the itsy bitsy teeny weeny pistol panties bikini that has been my nemesis for a year now.
I’m not body dysmorphic, I did a victory lap around the flat with my t-shirt over my head and arms in the air premier league footballer style when I zipped myself into a fitted UK size 10 shift dress. It was a truly epic moment and has taken me many many cardio miles, pyramids of doom, and body-quivering planking sessions to get this far. The end is nigh – but I still need to shift a few pounds of fat and tone up the peary bits of my pear shaped body.
I look and feel better than I have for years – and I want to keep that up. I’ll soon be moving from my ‘losing’ phase to a maintenance based one. In a way I’ll miss the slow but steady sense of achievement on losing those unwanted inches. I like the way I feel now, I feel healthy. I still have the odd splurge, I don’t deny myself anything major, but I do keep a daily eye on my calorie intake and exercise a minimum of 3 days a week.
I didn’t think that I’d stick with it, it seemed insurmountable in the beginning, but like the hare and the tortoise, slow and steady wins the day.