Frumpdom

So apparently, what you wear is incredibly important. It is supposed to affect the way you approach life, your general attitude, even your cognitive abilities. I listened to a podcast yesterday evening (this is becoming an ever-used phrase of mine) that shared the content of a recent article. It talked about a study whereby students had been given difficult mental tests and some of them had also been given a white lab coat. The latter group made fewer than half the mistakes of the former. Then a group were given the same white lab coat but told it was a paint coat, since there was 'wet paint in the building.' They performed much more poorly. Such is the power of clothing on our mental prowess...

This is inspiring to me. When I had Gracie, I moved up a couple of dress sizes and I found myself wearing leggings (which I hate), a strange array of nursing tops in colours that were not 'me' (or, worse, had horizontal and nautical stripes - and I've always hated anything with a nautical theme, bathrooms included) and unfashionable trainers. It really affected my mood. I felt overweight, frumpy, unsure what outfit to cobble together on any given day and as though I had, ultimately, lost a part of myself. But I thought it was okay because I was a Mum now and had bigger fish to fry. I berated myself for being so 'superficial'. But it was only when I lost the weight and was able to wear my usual clothes and style again, and I felt good about myself, that I realised just how low it had made me feel beforehand to look as I had.  

Now FlyLady (whom I follow, lightly, enticed by the promise that she will get my domestic domain in order) is a great advocate in the power of getting dressed properly. The theory behind her strictness in this area is that you do not start your day properly until you are dressed properly - and this means shoes as well. She says she used to work in sales, from home, and the company adopted a strict policy where employees were not allowed to make a single call before they had dressed, put on their shoes and done their hair/make-up, etc (delete as appropriate). So she says that unless you follow this precept (as well as shining your sink every night before you go to bed!), there is no point trying to follow any of the rest of her routines/regimes/philosophies for getting your house in order. 

Well. This morning was one of those mornings where things didn't go to plan. Michael had to get the earlier train so he wasn't able to help with the breakfast, as he usually does. But, more importantly, I wasn't able to get my Luxury Shower Alone (I've mentioned this in previous posts). And I tell you, I don't know whether it was this, or what, but I cannot tell you what I did between 7.30 and 8.30/9.00am. I really, really can't. I have this photocopied list of daily tasks that I can tick off (I just like ticking things off lists, really) which helps my scatty brain to order and structure my day, and I looked down at it, about 8.45am and I had ticked off not more than two things. I honestly cannot tell you where that hour really went. And my mind felt totally foggy. And perhaps that was because I was pyjama-clad the whole time. 

But seriously, I am inspired by the idea that it is not superficial to really start caring about style and my outfits again, but that it is good. I'm determined that Motherhood should not catapult me into Frumpydom. Aside from the fact that black leggings get dirty in about 2 milliseconds, I personally hate them. They are just not me. And I want to feel 'me' again, in the wardrobe department. So, it's music to my ears to have it confirmed that it's okay to honestly feel really depressed when wearing maternity/nursing/boat-sized/nautical-striped clothes. And it's okay to really put time into dressing the way you want and caring a bit about style after all. Inspired thus, I have just ordered two Superdry jackets for the Winter and am about to buy some Converse trainers. Thank you for your permission, Podcast.

Goodbye Frumpdom and Funkdom here I come...

Gracie's line for the day (possibly said before): 'Mummy, we can share it (the chocolate biscuit). You can have the small half and I'll have the bigger half.' Charming.