I was Styled At BlogHer!

On the pink carpet at the Style Suite Party

I love pretty things, I like color and style and find fashion fun. I fish the the NY Times styles section out of the recycle pile my husband has tossed it into and read it.
 
But I'm an autism mom, and let's face it: being fashionable is far, far from the center of my life right now. It's not even on the map.

So imagine my thrill when, based on my post Shape Shifting, I was chosen to be one of the moms rescued by the Moms Fashion File and given a make-over at BlogHer in the Secret Style Suite, and then sent out to walk the pink carpet at their lovely Style Suite Party.

The day was amazing.  I arrived at my appointed time and entered a lovely suite on the top of the Hard Rock Hotel, complete with terraces affording a great view of San Diego.

After warm greetings from my lovely, gracious hosts -- Andrea of SavvySassyMoms, Nicole of Momtrends, and Alison of Sassy Moms in the City -- we took a "before" shot:

Look, it's "the green dress"!

Then I was whisked into the room of many clothes, and I was fully outfitted:

 
First I was given a set of comfortable underwear from BALI intimates (no I'm not showing you me in THAT!)

And then, after a few false starts, the loveliest party dress just slipped onto my body and was clearly the one for me: this black lace over purple satin number from Kiyonna. The purple is subtle peeking out through the lace, but there.

Not the best pic of me - but don't look at me - look at The DRESS! The SHOES!

Shoes. What woman doesn't love shoes? And they were giving me a pair. Yay!

But? They wanted us in heels. I don't wear high high heels. I have some foot issues and also have trouble walking in them. Yet I was persuaded to try on these puppies from Dr. Scholl's (yes, I know I'm horribly pigeon toed, have been all my life, and so is Ethan).

And? People? They were comfortable, shockingly comfortable. And with a really cushioned footbed and I could (and did) walk in them and did not fall on my face once all evening. (Yay, me!)

Then I was accessorized with some very interesting jewelry by Stella & Dot including a fabulous bracelet (loaner only on the jewelry, sob).

Finally, we picked out a great matching purple bag (in vinyl for good karma) by Namaste Handbags.

And then it was time to glam me up. A daunting task if ever there was one....

My first stop was with celebrity makeup artist Tia Dantzler.

And she was a lovely, lovely woman. We chatted about our lives while she made a more glamorous version of me appear like magic.

Then? Hair! Everyone always wants to blow out my curls, and make my hair straight. Nope. They're a big part of my signature style, close to my identity. I am a curly-haired woman.

But once I'd said no to the blow, the talented women of Detour Salon did the next best thing - they tamed my curls, made them big and wavy, softer and without any frizz - magic I tell ya. OK, magic and a lot of time spent with curling irons.

See the difference?

Half done. Look at those amazing big curls on the right!

I still felt like me, but definitely a more fabulous me.

The hair at its best, before the day softened the transformation

Everyone commented on how lovely my hair looked when I went back to the conference for the afternoon sessions.

Me with fabulous hair and BH roomies Alexandra & Shari

Finally, I got my nails done by Ginny Cardenas, the force behind Scotch Naturals. This is very special nail polish. It's made from non-toxic ingredients, and it's actually good for your nails, instead of drying them out -- can you imagine?!

This woman, who created the product line and runs the company, has an amazing story and there is a whole post in that (which I will tell at some future point). But lets just say she is another mother with a mission, and I loved the time I spent with her while she graciously adorned my fingers AND toes (it having been determined that my sparkly blue toenails just MUST be transformed into purple to go better with the dress).

Done!

And then, to top it off, I was sent away with over-the-top amazing gift bag from Lands End: one of their wonderful canvas totes filled to the brim, including EVERYTHING I needed to take a dip in the hotel pool on Sunday.

(No, I did NOT swim on Saturday and ruin the amazing hair & make-up job. I even chose to forgo the cocktail cruise I had been invited to, figuring wind + hair = disaster. See I'm not a total beauty/fashion idiot.)

And then came evening. It was a lovely party (which I nearly didn't make it to, due to a stalled freight train cutting off the conference hotel from the rest of town for about an hour, but that's a $15 cab ride and another story). Food! Wine! Ice Cream!

 

And then, for the first (and probably only) time in my life... I was in a fashion show!

And I did NOT trip and fall on my face. And those shoes were still comfortable at the end of the evening, when I was back at the conference hotel, dancing my ass off at BlogHer's traditional late night Cheese BurgHer party... Amazing!

Many thanks to the party's sponsors: Plum District, Ciao Bella Gelato (num num num), Johnson's, Stokke, Trop 50 and Windows Phone for a lovely, lovely evening.  And thanks again to the lovely ladies who styled and beautified me, and most of all to the hostesses with the mostesses: Andrea, Nicole, and Alison.

You made this often dowdy fifty year-old mom feel fashionable and fabulous, and I'll never forget that. 


P.S.  I used to wonder why bloggers would list all the goodies they had received at their exclusive "invite only" events, as it felt like bragging. But now I understand, because I genuinely want to thank all the people who helped make this day possible. As I am feeling very grateful, I wanted to name the companies involved, and spotlight their generosity. So if you hate hearing about other people's swag, I apologize and ask for your understanding: for me it's all about the thanking.

P.P.S.  Deep apologies for how long it's taken to get this post out. My life exploded when I got back from BlogHer (I'm just unpacking now!) and then Hurricane Irene threw me for a big loop as I had to scramble to pick my autistic son up from his camp early and get back before the storm hit full force, so there went my planned writing time. And did I mention I have ADD and I just plain suck at deadlines? Yup. Sorry.


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Shape Shifting

A friend of mine frequently makes this joke: "I'm in shape.... because round is a shape!" And I laugh the sympathetic laugh of a fellow middle-aged-bigger-than-I-used-to-be mom. But also? I wince.

Because I *AM* round right now, and I don't really know how to deal with it. None of my clothes fit me right. I am completely clueless about how to dress for this shape, because it is not a shape I have ever been before.

Although it's been my shape, more or less, for the past nine years, I keep thinking it's temporary, an aberration and I will just magically morph back into my old shape sometime soon, so I throw on whatever loose (or, disastrously, too tight) clothes I can still tug onto my body and then I don't think about it.

But this round body? Seems to be not going away. Seems to be here to stay, and it's time I learn to dress for it, because I am really tired of looking dumpy and dreadful much of the time.

A little history here? OK...

Like any woman, seeming every woman, I have a long and complicated history with my body, my sense of self and beauty. A lot of this is coming up right now because last week I dredged up photos of myself from my High School graduation, many years ago (1977) for that "Senior Hottie" meme that was going around.

Want to see?  Here:

Me, 1977, High School Graduation day

I know at the time I did not feel beautiful. I thought my breasts were too small, while my hips too large. I didn't feel womanly enough. I look at these pictures now and can so clearly see my loveliness.

And it makes me sad that I was still pick, pick, picking at myself for not being perfect at the same time that I *thought* I was bucking the established order by choosing a "natural" hippie style.

Intellectually I knew real women weren't shaped like Barbie dolls, but still, the little girl in me that had played with them did not know how to feel like a woman, shaped otherwise. (I got over that, but it took a while.)

In my entire childhood? I'd been small, skinny, scrawny even. Then with adolescence I sprouted hips, but not much in the way of breasts, becoming a slim pear, an elongated bosc, lets say. Growing older I put on more weight slowly over the years, but always maintaining that basic pear shape, broader at the bottom than the top, becoming more of a d'anjou.

No matter how round my bottom? I always had a waist. And so, in my mid twenties when I came back East from the California bean sprout farm (yes, literally) and it began to be OK to think about and care more about my looks, I learned to dress for my shape.

Once more wearing undergarments, push up and padded bras balanced the top. Cinched waists, belts, and clothes that flared outwards from there made it look like the dress and not my hips was creating the width.

In my adult life? I gained a few pounds each year, went up to a B-cup (finally!), didn't stress too much about my size or shape. I was never obsessed with my looks, never really cared enough about it to do something radical like diet. I liked food. I was OK being a size 10 or 12. I've been told I was possibly more like a man in that, how the mirror never turns fun-house on me.

Because the thing was?  I always felt somehow comfortable enough in my skin, inhabiting my body fully. And feeling, maybe, more attractive than an objective measurement of my looks might tally? Made me actually more attractive, as confidence is quite a turn-on. So I was never at a loss for a date or mate.

It looked pretty good at 27:

Me at 27 (don't mind the curly mullet, please, it was the 80's)

Even at 37? Not half bad. This is how I looked when I met my husband.

Me at 37 and at the beach

And then, some time quite late in life, this happened:

Me, 39 weeks pregnant with twins

At the ripe old age of 41, I found myself finally pregnant, and with twins, no less.  I went full term, to 39 weeks.  So 12 days shy of my 42nd birthday, I delivered nearly 14 pounds of babies.

That was nearly 9 years ago (the boys' birthday is coming up in late July).

And I have never seen my waist again.

The whole pregnancy process started me down this road.  It involved fertility treatments at the beginning (I permanently lost 2 inches of bust and gained 2 inches of waist in just 2 weeks on one evil anti-hormone drug. Truth.) and then a 4 inch, never healed tear in my abdominal muscles from going full term with the twins (a ligament can only stretch so much before it splits, folks, and it's officially called "Diastasis Recti").

And then, just when I thought I might start to focus on myself again, re-claim my body? One of my twins was diagnosed on the autism spectrum and my life as a full time Autism & Special Needs Mom began. And then my very elderly parents moved back to New York City from Florida so I could take care of and look after them. My second full-time "job."

I'd even managed to join weight watchers for a while and lose seventeen pounds, I thought I was finally on track to shifting my shape back.  But then my father started slowly, intensely dying; followed closely by my mother-in-law. I am a stress eater. I was not sleeping much. No more need be said, right?

Add in the unkindness that each year's peri-menopausal changes have made as I marched towards then crossed over the big 5-0 mark, plus the assault on my body that was this winter's gall bladder attacks, surgery and recovery? And you'll find me, now, heavier and more beach-ball shaped than I have ever been, non-pregnant.

And so now nearly all of my clothes getting are too tight and binding. Except for the mumus.

And those mumus? Any clothes loose enough to not reveal the gut... look like maternity wear and make me look pregnant. Like really, really pregnant. Because my weak as kittens abdominal muscles push my body towards this preggo, weeble, Booh-Bah shape.

All while my body is hurtling towards menopause, making it gut wrenching when people ask when I'm due (and they do).  If folks catch me on a particularly hormonal day when they ask that? I might just wail: "Never! I'm too (sob) OLD (sob) to have more babies, waaaaaah" at them.  You can see that something MUST be done, and soon.

All that said, I am not completely lost and clueless. I have a few "go to" items: 2 perfectly loose-and-flowy-but-not-too-loose-and-baggy shirts, a magic jersey dress that seems to fit me and look halfway decent no matter what size I am (magic!), one pair of black jeans that I am not afraid to wear.

But I need more than 4 items of clothing I feel okay in. Plus these few pieces, already many years old, will eventually fall apart at the seams, leaving me naked. Not a pretty picture.

At BlogHer10 in THE DRESS

At the boys 8th birthday party in THE DRESS

I do have a sense of style, I just have mostly wrong clothes and no idea how to dress for my new increasingly round shape. I hope to change that shape someday, as I know I need to get pay attention to my body again, to become healthier.

It's just I can't keep putting off looking OK now thinking I'm about to be magically transformed back into my old shape at any minute. So I want to simultaneously work, slowly and steadily, at getting my body stronger, healthier, more flexible and a bit smaller while also finding a way to feel beautiful again now, in this odd shape and size that I find myself in.

I need to learn what to wear that works for "round." And how to dress to both feel comfortable and flatter this shape that I'm in while I work to possibly turn it into something else, accepting that at 50 it's going to be a slow process, and might never end me back where I began.

On my 50th birthday last summer, shockingly NOT in THE DRESS

Not too shabby for 50, eh?

At 50 I know who I am, I know my general sense of style (high-end Manhattan hippie meets Boden mommy) but I just really need a lot of help translating that to this "new" body of mine. I am tired of looking dumpy. Really tired of it.

I just learned of this mom's fashion makeover contest today today, so here I am at the 11th hour, frantically trying to slap a post together (both kids FINALLY asleep) and throw it up on my blog before the clock strikes 12 and my coach reverts to a pumpkin. Because I could sure use the help, gals!

This post was written as my entry for a chance to win a Style Session at BlogHer11 from Moms Fashion File.

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I Was a Senior Feminist-Hippie-Hottie

What?

When of Liz of a belle a bean and a chicago dog came up with the fun idea of posting photographs of ourselves from our senior year of High School, I'm sure she was thinking most moms would be coming up with late 80's and early 90's style: big big hair, big sweaters, neon bright make-up and leggings. Well, ladies I'm a good bit older than y'all.

When Natalie from Mommy of a Monster & Twins was graduating high school in 1992 and rocking her glamour style?  I was a 32 year-old bride (my "starter marriage", not the one that took & gave me my boys).

My high school senior year? 1977, baby! And while technically the hippie era was over by about 5 years and punk and disco were vying for the official "youth style" title, my friends and I were nostalgic throwbacks. All artsy-fartsy, hippie-dippy, loosey-goosey, anti-materialistic. Also? Budding feminists.

So in my box of senior year pictures (if I could find it) you would NOT see: make-up, prom pix (didn't go, didn't believe in it - too bourgeois) big hair, big shoulders, or underwear (didn't wear it, didn't believe in it - too bourgeois). Sigh. (My kids better not follow in my footsteps.)

What you would see: my natural curly hair (in that awkward stage of being grown out), lots of loose cotton clothing from India via Manhattan's MacDougal Street, hairy legs & pits.

There aren't a lot of photos of me from that year, for, you see, I was a Photographer, to be found on the OTHER side of the camera, a Creator, no mere passive female object. (Did I mention I was starting to become a bit dogmatic and insufferable that year, in that way teenage zealots can be? Maybe just a tad.)

Well, I actually managed to dig up three photos from my senior graduation day, none official (horrors, perish the thought!) but these few blurry, dark photos do prove that I did actually show up at my graduation, in spite it being a, you know, patriarchal, conservative institution and all.

Maybe because there was a great graduation party that night. A girl's gotta have her priorities straight, after all. 

So here is me circa June 1977, on the front lawn of my house with my parents, Graduation Day:

Me & Mom, Graduation Day, June 1977

 Me & Dad, Graduation Day, June 1977

Me, Graduation Day, June 1977

And was I wearing a skirt as a strapless dress that day? Why yes, yes I believe I was. What? It was freaking hot in June. A skinny 16 year-old can get away with that shit, right? In 1977? You betcha!

I was a Senior Feminist-Hippie-Hottie, for sure!

Come dig out your pictures and link up, too!

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Wordless Wednesday: Ethan Gets his Day

Ethan, a little miffed at how much attention Jacob has been getting on my blog lately, wants to know where all the pictures of HIM are. 

Yes, I know they are there in last week's Rosh Hashana post, in my Summer's End post, in countless other posts. 

But the one just before this and two before that?  Big pictures of Jake front and center.

Therefore?  In the eyes of my 8 year old son, Ethan?  Jacob is hogging all the attention, which is supposed to be HIS job.  

So here he is: Ethan, in all his glory.

First day of 3rd grade:

Yes, I know he's in clashing prints, Yes, he picked that outfit out himself, and Yes, that's his (unique) fashion sense. Someday you will be paying thousands of dollars for amazing things he's designed, so suck in the judgment.

Talk to the hand:

:

(and yes, he's wearing shorts, thank you, just low riders - skinny boy)

On the bus, mesmerized by his BeyBlade (don't ask!):

I love his secret smile:

And finally, at the Medieval Fair at the Sands Point Castle:

NO, I did not buy that sword for him! Really people, I have SOME sense.

I’m linking up to Wordless Wednesday at Angry Julie Monday.