Day 2.6: Miles of Piles

Step 1: Put on a top you like.
Actually, it's more important, I found, to put on a bottom I like. I changed out of a pair of pants I was wearing into my favourite jeans because I wanted to tell whether it was the top--or the pants--that was making my tummy and hips so awful. A good brassiere would help too.

Step 2: Pile
Pile 1: Torture Devices.
Surprisingly, this was a huge pile. 21 tops, to be precise. What put most tops in this pile was their lack of fit at the waist. I'll analyse this in more detail later.

Pile 2: Velveteen Rabbits: 3.

1) A red knit, collared open neck with three buttons, long banded sleeves, square cut bottom with little notched Vee's at the side. (Pilling badly. Tiny stains at waist level.)

2) An elbow length sleeve, v-neck button down in denim blue and red with embroidery on the pocket and placket. (Missing buttons).

3) A dark green cotton shirt, similar in style to the previous. (missing buttons).

Pile 3: Stalwart Staples: 6.

1) Navy silk jewel neck short sleeve t-shirt.

2) Blue 3/4 sleeve brushed knit boat neck.

3) Black jewel neck jersey cotton T-shirt with teeny shoulder pads and elbow length sleeves.

4) Burgundy knit turtleneck.

5) Black mandarin collared button down shirt in a soft shirt-weight cotton, with buttoned wrist length sleeves.

6) Dark green ribbed cotton elbow length sleeve knit with a jewel collar with one button.

Pile 4: Superstars: none.

Pile 5: Same Time Next Year: I have outfits in this category, not merely tops, so I didn't include them. As well, I didn't go through my summer clothes.

Pile 6: Sentimental Journeys: 1.

a) A rugby shirt in purple and white from Journalism school.

Pile 7: Mysteries of the lost shopping trip. 0.
Confession: I haven't shopped in years. All of my clothes come from my mother who has been downsizing and clearing out her wardrobe for a few months now. During the summer, I was receiving about a garbage bag full of clothes every week. She's moved on to sizes that won't fit me, now, so the inflow has thankfully stopped. Everything that might have been in this category went into "Torture device."

Step 3: Distinguish between personal classics, stuff that's pretty good and rampant errors.

Shoulders: I have sloping shoulders. I have trouble even keeping my bra straps up. The "books" say I should wear shoulder pads...even tiny ones. But my shoulders are also broad. So--with a shoulder pad--I tend to look like a line backer, even in the smallest one. I don't know if I just haven't found one small enough, or if I should just live with my natural "Gibson Girl" look (see illustration).

Sleeve cut. Anything with the sleeve cut right on my shoulder looked fine. Anything with the sleeve cut on the arm looked terrible. I also have a small ribcage. When I'm skinny, it's nice. When I'm heavy, it simply means I can carry a lot of weight without it being terribly noticeable. BUT, it also means that big loose fitting tops add bulk where there isn't any. As I tried on top after top I just looked BIG. But the three garments in the VR pile saved me. And, of course, now I know why they're still in the closet even though two are missing buttons, and one is piling beyond tolerance (and is a wee bit stained). The seem sits right on top of the shoulder which means the fabric under the armhole falls straight down. There's nothing extra between my arm and my torso.

Sleeve length: OK, we already know a "cap" sleeve, sleeveless, and spaghetti straps would be ridiculous on me. But that was also true when I was skinny. For some reason my upper arms are beefy--even when I'm skinny. It took a LOT of toning back in the day to make them look good.

The same can be said for sleeves which fall right to the elbow. It's better when the sleeve is cut on the shoulder (see above) but still puts mass where it shouldn't.

3/4 length sleeves look OK. They really are shortest I ought to go.

Long sleeves: Those which button and billow just at the wrist add bulk to my hips when I stand at attention (though, really, who ever stands at attention except when trying on clothes?). I dislike sleeves which fall below my wrist, so it doesn't matter what they look like. Those which fall right AT my wrist are fine. Better if they are buttoned--so I can unbutton them and roll them up when I need to wash the dishes. Anything that is tapered to the wrist is frustrating (like my PJ top, actually. I have to change out of it to plunge my hands into the dishwater).

Neckline: I have been blessed with a long neck. Almost any neckline looks good. In my Stalwart Staples pile I had one each: jewel neck, V neck, boat neck, crew neck and a turtle neck, and a mandarin collared shirt neck.

Length: Nothing shorter than my, ahem, cr*tch will do. Anything shorter than that just looks awful. Maybe it was the way my pants fit, but still. Even then, it's best if it is a tad longer. Nothing longer than the top of my thighs is a good idea, either. As lorijo put it--the "hobbit" look is not what we're after!

I'm not sure what this is called--but I think I need darts at the bust-line. That would reduce the bulk through the torso and give me some shaping where there is actually so nice shaping to show off. I do not have anything in this style.

Colour:
No-nos from the Torture pile: orange, aqua, gray, both light and dark (though I'm not really sure about these), pure white.
Yeses from the Torture Pile: any blue except aqua, purple, burgundy, red, black.
I have two dark foresty green tops in each of the stalwart staple and Velveteen rabbit categories...but I'm not confident the colour works for me.
I had nothing in cream, pink, or yellow. (If I do, they're packed away for summer).

Fabric: (sigh). No big knits. My favourite sweater is a bulky grey knit. I looked like an elephant. No thick cotton--such as is found in budget friendly turtlenecks. It could have been the cut. No corduroy. No matter how fine the whale. Nothing sheer. (shudder).

Step 4: Gaps.
1. No shirts.
Mom gave me a four dressy shirts, sorry, blouses. The cut is beautiful--all straight edged at the bottom, falling in just the right place. Sleeves were inset, the wristbands all button. The collars had a little embroidery and pointed down. Some had nice hidden buttons down the front creating that attractive vertical line the "dress slimmer" pundits advocate. Nice dressy (albeit crepe polyester) shirts--but ALL see through. It was horrible. I put these shirts in the torture category because of their sheerness. But if I could fix that, I may have some very nice blouses. Any ideas what I could do?

Other than these shirts, I have nothing "dressy" to wear to Church (or anywhere else for that matter. If we went anywhere else).

I think I need a nice button down shirt, probably in a fine cotton, with some shaping in the torso (those dart things) with button sleeves (to roll up). I've always loved these types of shirts.

2. Now that most of my shapeless turtlenecks are in the Torture category, I have precisely one left. Two more would be nice. I do get cold once in a while.

3. No decent T-shirts. (see 2 above). But, now that I've analysed my fitting needs, there probably isn't a decent T-shirt anywhere out there. I do have one Velveteen rabbit silk t-shirt --maybe that's the way to go?

Step 5: Setting Priorities.
Broad goal: Dressier casual clothes that fit well, are machine washable, and don't require ironing.

Specific goals: Fill in the above identified gaps. Most urgent--probably the turtlenecks. Maybe something dressyish for Church? I don't know--I think we have to look at bottoms for me to clarify what's necessary here.

And I think I have come to end of the exercise. I feel like I'm missing something--please let me know. And if anything occurs to you--a style to look at, for example, which meets my criteria, I'd be happy to go look. Suggestions welcome (as always)!

And Wende, I can now fully understand your frustration trying to find a well-fitting top. Now that I am hyper-aware of what's not going to work, I'm not at all willing to settle for anything that won't make me look the best I can--not even if it's free.

Day 2.6 The (un)Holy Grail

In order to know what works well on your body you have to be comfortable with it. That's the grail. --Minnie Driver (actress)

Many years ago, I hated my body. I really did. I don't remember whether I was fat or skinny (I think I was skinny, though, because I remember holding up a top from that period of time and being shocked at how tiny it was) but I know I believed I was "fat." That was just shorthand, though, for "I hate my body."

But why did I feel that way? Was I too immersed in images of Linda Evangelista and the other super-models of the time? Or was it something else?

For me, it was something else, mixed up with the media messages.

I received counseling for that which caused the intense self-loathing and I'm happy to say the scars have long healed. But if you aren't comfortable with your body you have to find out why and how deep it goes. And if it goes deep, I strongly recommend a professional. Let's just say I know whereof I speak.

Part of what turned my thinking around was my first pregnancy. I saw my body in a totally different (and non-media) light. It was strong. It was capable of life. It was capable of a miracle. Even though I reached 200lbs, I wasn't fazed. It was amazing.

I took those insights and ate and exercised so that my body reflected my positive thoughts about it. I made it strong and lithe. I got a wardrobe which reflected my joy. And another miracle was performed.

That was a long time ago.

I am not currently comfortable with my body (which is a long way from hating it). It is not strong. My feet give me problems which need diagnoses and treatment. My neck and middle back are unreliable and need constant chiropractic care. It's been this way for about seven years and I haven't done a thing about it. Why?

Part of it is I dislike doctors and the whole medical profession. Part of it is because I just naturally procrastinate. And part of it is because I find it really, really difficult to make the time and take energy for myself--and away from my family--in any overt way, like leaving the house for a walk. (The time I spend blogging seems to belie that, but it's covert. They are still in the next room.)

When the kids were younger, I whined, but it was fine. I totally sympathise and will hastily agree with any woman with children under five that there truly isn't time for oneself. To tell her she "has to" (and "it's good for the children") when shutting the bathroom door is a luxury, is just cruel. Sometimes, there just isn't time to take and that's life. But my kids are older now. I can "take time for myself." And if I don't, then I really have to wonder, again, why?

Is it because I'm so uncomfortable with my body I don't want to face it? see it? deal with it?

--or is it just the cumulative effect of denial resulting in stasis and inertia?

Smallcitybeth wrote a wonderful post addressing the question why she doesn't dress to reflect her joy. And Wende (as usual) had an insightful reply:

Scb wrote: So why am I still dressing as if the depression still has me in its thrall?

Wende replied: My guess: you had plenty of time to learn depressed dressing habits before getting treatment, and you've never consciously unmade them because there were plenty of
other things to do. And it's possible to be in a world where there's some subtle social pressure not to take trouble with your appearance because that's a sign of worldly vanity.

Have I just gone unconscious? And stayed that way because to take the trouble is "worldly vanity?"

Could it be that simple? Could I just need a wake-up call like Wardrobe Therapy to realise I do care and I want to live like I do? And that's all?

So, let's not say, "make time for myself." Let's say, instead:

"make time to build my body strong"
"make time to treat my body with respect"
"make time to eat properly so I have energy (and not anger) to meet the needs of those I love."
and

"make time to build an image I would be proud to have my daughter emulate."

Maybe I can do those things.

(Starting with a shower. Right now.)
(Oh dear. When I came out all fresh and clean, the kids were fighting--physically fighting one another. I have to figure this out or live with the possibility one of them may be dead when I emerge. It's not going to be easy.)

Day 9.5 Boom Da Da Boom. And some advice (again) please.

I got the final coat of paint on the set of three shelves that go above the desk done this morning. I bought the fourth shelf last night, so I'll prime and paint it over the next few days and the Dining Room will be done!

The little round table project is almost done too. I just have to decide whether the base is getting another coat of stain or if I'll give up and paint it.

What you you paint the base of a small pedestal table with the top stained dark? (PS, back when this thing was supposed to go into the kitchen and I was really into the country look, I stained the top "golden oak" and painted the base and legs white. I changed my mind and stained the top dark.
Dark like this:


I've tried using a water based "chocolate" stain over the white painted base, but it looks terrible. What I need to do is stain it--but that requires sanding and it is now too cold for that! So, paint it shall have to be.
Black seems "cheap," white too countryish, brown too much like a "near miss" and any other colour too attention getting. It's going into the living room in front of the window with the dark chocolate brown drapes.
Here's a rough idea of what the thing should look like all assembled:
I'm all out of creative ideas for this. Help?

Day 2.4 Are You Worth It?

What are you worth?

Nothing broadcasts what we think of ourselves more than our personal appearance. Didn't we all get that message when we were growing up? "Comb that hair. You look like______." Fill in the blank. (Mine would be "a tramp") or, "You're not wearing THAT are you?"

And the message is refined and relentless in the media. Or it was. Riding the wave of feminism for years and years, L'Oreal ran a successful campaign for colouring your hair cleverly styled into a message championing self-esteem. Now it seems, they're equating hair style with cultural identity. Clever folks over there. But I digress.

I chose not to dye my own greying hair precisely because I didn't want to buy their orchestrated equation--that how I look tells others what I think about myself.

But, as is always the case in these things (else why would the campaigns be so successful?), there is some truth to it.

So, what am I worth?
I'm priceless, as the folks at Mastercard would say.

And while I can easily reject the notion that my worth is not established by my personal appearance (or the toys I buy) it is harder to reject the converse: that my sense of self-worth is reflected by my appearance.

I once knew a woman, back when we were both still girls in our 20's, who consciously and deliberately wore the ugliest clothes in the worst torn, stained and ragged condition she could find (or create). She'd had the misfortune to be a model in her teen years and did not want anyone to see and judge her by her natural beauty. So, she did her best to be ugly. While I admired her bravery for making the personal into the political, it seemed to me even then that her severe and total reaction hadn't quite divorced the equation between her sense of self and her appearance.

I'm not sure that one can make the divorce. And I certainly don't know what the appropriate response to the equation might be. All I know is that I'm tired of dressing as if I don't care. Because, I do.

Whatever that's worth.

Day 9.4(b) Electrical Update.

The electrician came.
After checking the breaker panel, it turned out it wasn't a fuse, but a short somewhere in the line. So I ran around unplugging things while he tut tutted the state of our wiring. The schematic I drew turned out to mildly useful. He started checking all the switches and outlets, starting at those closest to the breaker....and just as he was about to start taking apart the overhead lights, he asked me: "Is the garage connected to the house?"

Oh, yeah. I never go in there so I'd forgotten. But there had been high winds on Saturday and that was when the power had gone out.

So I took him outside and showed him the two thin yellow lines running suspended across the backyard.
"See those? They go to the garage."
More tut tutting.
He uncrossed them.

That was all.

The power is back.

Day 9.4 In The Dark

It's the elephant in the house we can not ignore any longer.

But the elephant is tired of being ignored and has reared up on its hind legs and bellowed: We are currently without power to more than half the house. Have been since Saturday.

It's an old house. (Well, OK, it's not that old. It was built in 1949. But when we're talking original wiring, it's old.) There are precisely four breakers for 1200 square feet, not including the two separate breakers for the dryer and stove. I drew up a quick schematic of the outlets and overhead fixtures to show you what's working and what isn't.



Key:
Circle with X: overhead fixture
Box: electrical outlet.
Big Black Square in back entry: Electrical breaker box.
Red: in the dark
Green: A-OK.

Not shown:
The entire upstairs. It's in the dark.
The Basement: 1/2 is OK (the part under the green), 1/2 is in the dark (the part under the red).


Fortunately all the appliances (including the washer and dryer, computer, TV, etc) are connected to the green circuit, and the furnace is working.


Side note--It's a mystery to me, though, why there are four breakers--perhaps the furnace is one? But that would only account for three. The parts marked in green always go out when we have Christmas lights up--and given the heavy appliance load on it, it trips every so often--so I'm familiar with its breaker. (And believe me, all that is marked in green, truly is one circuit). Everything marked in red is obviously one circuit--and one breaker. So, just what are the other two?


We have known for ten years we need to re-wire the house--at the very least we should have upgraded the electrical panel by now. The house is no where near code--no outlets in the bathrooms (which, actually, is fine.) There are supposed to be outlets every sixteen inches in the kitchen--I have happily lived without those, too. What would be nice, though, is outlets in the hallways and another ceiling fixture in the stairwell. Oh--and maybe another two outlets in each bedroom. The basement, with only two overhead fixtures and two outlets could use a few more electrical service points!


But for the immediate future, all we need to do is replace a fuse. We cannot figure out how to do that. We took the panel off the breaker box, took one look at those thick, old, nasty wires and called an electrician. He's no longer doing residential, so we've a call out to another outfit. Let's hope they can help us right away! I can't take much more of this.


There's candle wax everywhere.

update at noon: the fellow we've been playing phone tag with is no longer doing residential work. The contact he gave us is booked solid for the next four to five weeks. But the contact that company gave us "may send a guy out this afternoon." I think my shoulders have dropped about 6 inches. Let's hope he can get here today.

Day 2.2: From the Style File

Greatly encouraged by you all to go ahead and just look at clothes, I spent last night cruising the websites of Land's End, Anne Taylor, Reitman's, Tabi, and Coldwater Creek. I'm glad I started with the last, because that is where I found most of what you will see.

For Stalwart Staples, we have the turtle neck and the V necked Tee. I actually own only a few V neck tees. Most of my Tee shirts are of the Fruit of the Loom variety with round necks and big droopy sleeves. These are not like that.

This purple is, for me, a joyous colour.

The wine/burgundy is another colour I love. But this sweater seems a bit close-fitting. I much prefer the one on the right. In fact, I love it so much, I was quite ready to rush out to try and buy it when, as I was playing with the picture, I noticed the arms, as in Mella's or was it Zooza's emphatic "I will not wear 3/4 length sleeves. I will not chop off my arms." I'd never thought that. I like their warmth-without-getting-in-the-dishwater ease....but I saw it. And now I don't know what to think.

But look at these--for summer.

The middle makes sense: a joyous colour. Linen--a joyous fabric. But definitely a style that demands skinniness. And what's with the lacy stuff to the left and right? I'm not really sure....

I saw my "dream" uniform at Coldwater Creek. It's this:
The jeans, the shirt, the vest. Bright red. And it's the right length. But at this weight, I never wear my shirts tucked in. But we're dreaming right?

The shirt as jacket. I have always loved this look. But as I browsed, I thought, well, what about a real jacket?

OK, so the one on the right is more of the same, but the one on the left? Wouldn't that look terrific in the grocery store? I can see it now, the long pendant dangling among the green peppers as I choose the best one. Though I don't think I'd ever yell at the kids dressed up like this. Nor, dressed in these ensembles:

The one on the left is not my colour scheme, but I love the texture of the jacket fabric and the sweet collar. And the image to the right? I could wear it to death with the right shoes (but without the belt). And speaking of denim jackets, look at this one.

Who knew I'd like embroidery? But I do. On this too:
But wait, there's more!

Look at the drape in these tops. Ooh-la-la. So sexy. And that skirt on the right--well, that's verging on Diva (with no place to wear it). And so is this:

and this:
Who knew I was such a romantic?