Fashion Emergency

I hate when I have to eat my words.  Granted, they're usually yummy, but eating them requires me to admit that I was wrong.

Remember a few weeks ago when I mocked and cried out at all that was wrong with current fashions?

Well, today, in a bit of a panic, I called my fashionista sister to meet me at Old Navy.  Rebecca is style personified and she swore that she'd help me figure out what I'm going to wear for our family photo session tomorrow.

As we all know, I am frumpy personified.  Don't get me wrong!  I have my good days.  But overall, well, I'm still trying to get away with wearing maternity tops and elastic waist skirts that I pretend make me look hippie or retro or something.  My body has not recovered from having two children.  (And the jury is still out as to whether or not the damage is permanent.) And, even though I tried the power of positive thinking, I didn't wake up this morning transformed to a size 8 with a closet full of adorable clothes. I don't have a fashion emergency.  I am a fashion emergency. With an appointment to get pictures.  Tomorrow.

You can see why I was in a bit of a panic.

Rebecca met me at Old Navy.  There, after a frustrating hour of trying on every pair of jeans in stock and helping her to understand that what looks good on her frame will make me look like a snow woman (round top, round bottom) she talked me into trying on a pair of jeggings.

Yes.  I said jeggings.

As in jean leggings.

I've laughed and giggled at this fashion trend for months.  My dear, dear readers, I laugh no more!

They were...perfect.  They fit my legs, were forgiving around my belly and butt and, this is important, didn't make me look like a sausage in a casing. Or, worse, like I'm getting ready to play shuffle board on the seniors cruise.

Paired with a truly adorable pair of flats and a loose top with a cardigan, I looked trendy.  And stylish.  And, saints be praised, not frumpy.

I was sold. I told Becky that I was ready to get "jeggy" with it.  She replied, "Don't ever say that again. Ever." while the sales clerk looked on in horror at my utter nerdom.  Actually, now that I think of it, the horror could have been brought on by me laughing that I haven't worn leggings since the eighth grade. In other words, since before she was born.

Now, when I show up tomorrow with my too-adorable-for-words family, I'll look like I belong with them, rather than the overworked, underpaid hired help.

Of course, I have nothing on Elizabeth's stylish ensemble.  She'll be wearing these. With a denim skirt. Because she is her aunt's niece.

And, for the record, Old Navy did not give me complimentary jeggings or even a discount for writing this post.  But they should.  Seriously. If anyone who reads this is from Old Navy, I could really use another top or two.  And maybe another pair of shoes.