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Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Get Frumpy!

Come on gals, everyone is doing it! Ditch your sexy heels, throw out your lacy lingerie. We're all about mastectomy bras and orthotics round here.

Things you need for ultimate frumpitude:

- Lopsided (still, forfuck'ssake) boobs
- JP drain (outline should be visible through shirt)
- Extra 10 pounds (preferably chemo weight mixed with general laziness)
- Extremely baggy shirts that try and fail to disguise the above
- Old lady hair
- Sparse eyebrows

Seriously. I went shopping for clothes today...holy fuckballs. I haven't bought clothing in a really long time. With the exception of a couple of half priced sweaters I bought on Black Friday, I haven't spent any money on clothes since last August. It was after my mastectomy, and I still had drains. Every morning getting dressed was this really depressing game of "Which of these shirts looks hideous on you now?" The answer was all of them. So I said to myself, "Get thee to The Gap," and I bought four dark colored shirts in extra large. I also bought some things called bralets, because the name tickled me and I had never been able to wear one of those before. When I got home I packed away all my existing clothes except for a few pairs of pants. I wore this very limited wardrobe for almost an entire year. (To be completely honest, there were a couple of other button down shirts that I had previously bought for post-mastectomy life which I wore when I was unable to lift my arms above my head.)

Mercifully, one of the cats or the roomba broke our full length mirror several months ago, so for the most part I have had no idea what I've looked like.

As the hottest part of the summer begins, in NYC, in my office with no air conditioning, I've had to rethink this four shirts thing. (Actually I'm down to two shirts, since two of the original ones were long sleeved.) I looked through old stuff, and found one tank top baggy enough to hide under. I had a Gap gift card so I got a couple more XL tees without trying them on. Then I realized that I had entered the Frump Zone.

When my mom was a kid, she and her friend did this anthropological study of them moms they knew, breaking them into two categories: Hotsy Totsy Moms, and Frump Moms. Hotsy Totsy Moms wore makeup, high heels, and fancy hairstyles. Frump Moms, like my grandma according to my mom, never wore makeup, got perms so they didn't have to do their hair, and wore comfortable if ugly shoes. Check check check.

I went to the mall to see if I could improve the situation. In attempt to recapture someone else's youth, I guess, I went to Forever 21, a place where 17 year olds shop with the dream of someday wishing they were younger. I put aside my reservations aboutt heir creepy Christian agenda, and took a pile of polyblend into the dressing room. Oof. The oddly cut clothes work for skinny teenagers, but oddly lump 29 year olds, stay far away.

I should say now that, compounding my weird shape, is that I don't want to spend like ANY money. What's a girl to do?

Go to H&M, that's what.

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