As for the outfit, I'm wearing a Bench tank, Kate Moss for Topshop wool pants, Cole Vintage flats, Sopia bib necklace and, for a pop of color, my Cambridge Satchel.
I've taken to wearing blacks, grays and beiges. It's rather boring. I don't know if this is a phase because I'm feeling insecure about my stubborn belly fat or because black hides baby spit and food stains or I've truly become boring. If it's permanent (heaven forbid!), I guess I should start buying bright accessories, like Furla's candy bags which I covet.
Hmm, which reminds me... On Twitter today, fellow mom bloggers Martine and Eliza and mompreneur Paola and I chatted about how women would sacrifice food, apply for endless payday loans, and go into credit card debt just to buy designer bags, specifically bags that go for obscene amounts. I said that if I had that much money to spend on frivolity, I'd rather buy jewelry. And I actually do. Jewelry appreciates in value (the price of gold hit a record high recently), is easy to pack and hide should you need to flee (must stop watching crime shows--I'm beginning to think like a crook!), and is easy to sell or barter. Bags? Imagine packing all of your Birkins and Pradas while fleeing the country. Jewelry is easy--just sweep into a bag (preferably the understated and roomy Mulberry Bayswater) and go.
However, I have nothing against buying designer bags. If we can afford them, why not? But I think there's something seriously wrong about getting into debt or sacrificing on essentials like food or the children's education or living in squalor just so you can tote a Goyard, a Birkin or a Chanel. Or the latest gadget. For example, I always get supremely irritated that certain relatives of mine have smart phones and game consoles and yet can't pay for their kids' tuition fees. Really.
But people don't see beyond my nice life. They don't see that I spent 1999 to 2009 working my ass off, working 24 hours sometimes, eating very little or skipping meals altogether, skipping doctor check-ups and maintenance meds for my asthma, carefully using and cleaning clothes and shoes so they will last longer, scraping together every peso and enduring the glare of bank tellers while I count out coins I saved up to deposit to my bank account, and delaying marriage and kids because I wanted to have a better life first.
All people see is I'm lucky. All they see is my glamorous life. And it is a wonderful life filled with nice trappings. I love my life. The best part is I deserve this life because I earned it. Every bit of it. So if I go out and buy a Furla candy bag tomorrow or a ruby ring or a painting or a dozen books or an orange Zara dress, I can do so and most happily, too!