There are times when I’m floored by how lucky I am to have you, this community of readers, in my life. It’s in the supportive comments that you leave for each other (or when you come to our defense, thank you very much for that), it’s when you bravely send in swim selfies all I Am Mama; This Is Me, and, occasionally, it’s when you write so eloquently about life, about your experiences, and you widen your circle to include all of us.
That’s when I feel the luckiest.
So when I got Cynthia’s (lengthy, haha) email about the Buy Nothing Project, I knew immediately it was something I wanted to cover.
I just want to start by saying I am such a fan of The Mom Edit. I can’t tell you what it’s done for me. The suggestions from you and your contributors have allowed me to get real about a sensible wardrobe (for my life), and still feel stylish (or dare I say hip) for a mom of 2! Anyway, I’ve traded the fast and fancy fashions of my youth for more expensive but timeless pieces like high quality jeans that actually fit, unique basics and sneakers…my god…so many sneakers. But alas, I digress.
In this process, my closet was literally bursting at the seams and giving me so much anxiety I was actually losing sleep. Did you know anxieties can be tied to an excess of things? Yeah, neither did I until I started getting rid of it and feeling a gazillion times better…
Cynthia’s writing was so passionate about the project, so engaging, and so funny that my response was quick and easy: “Cynthia,” I wrote, “YES. Can you write it?” (my email self is hopelessly terse).
And she did. With pics. Including, my favorite, a bad-ass pic of herself and her two little girls that will most-likely become one of those epic family portraits for generations to come – it’s at the end, and totally adorable.
Now here’s Cynthia on the Buy Nothing Project….
Life moves faster than I often realize.
It’s like one minute you’re in your twenties, prancing down the street in impossibly high heels, frosted lips and a lace push up bra. In the next, you’re gliding through the office in a power suit, clutching a latte and a handbag that costs more than some small nation’s entire GDP. And Now? High heels are the modern equivalent of some antiquated torture device meant to subjugate women. You’re lucky if you’ve remembered to wear a bra for school drop off, and the only thing you’re clutching, besides your dwindling sanity, is that cold cup of coffee you’ve been nursing all morning.
I confess. I sometimes have a problem letting go of the past.
For years – way too may years – I’ve hung on to the lavish wardrobe of my “Illustrious youth” with the fanciful notion that once the kids get older, I will somehow resurrect this person, this life. ME, who now high-fives herself for being in bed by 9:30 on a Friday night with the next episode of the Handmaid’s Tale cued up. I think it’s safe to assume that that girl is never coming back.
And you know what, I’m okay with that. Sleep looks good on me.
But I haven’t thrown in the towel. I have embraced the gospel according to The Mom Edit, and thanks to this clergy of very stylish, yet practical women, I’ve reigned in my predilection for designer sale racks and impulse shopping. I’ve relinquished most of the fast and fancy fashions of my youth for more timeless pieces like high quality jeans (that actually fit!), unique basics and sneakers…my god…so many sneakers. But alas, I digress.
I now have a streamlined and sensible wardrobe for my work-from-home mom life.