Shabby Chic(k)
I'd like to say that this is my style, but I'm afraid it's more like "shabby chick"... and let me assure you that 'k' makes all the difference in the world.
I'm pretty basic, by and large. Apparently, according to the Urban Dictionary, that is not a good thing:
But that really isn't me, either.
My Uggs are knock-offs that I bought at Frenchy's for $12, and I more than certainly do not wear them in August. I refuse to pay more than $2 for a cup of coffee, so Starbucks is a non sequitur. I do love me the odd selfie, but I don't find I like them all that often, ergo I do not share... if I'm posting a selfie, there are two things true for sure: I managed to grab a selfie that I like (possibly not day of, as I will save them) and I'm in need of positive public attention. Most likely because I am feeling ugly and my mother's been dressing me funny... or someone has hurt my feelings somehow... but #attentionwhore almost never shows up on one of my posts.
My thing is more like:
I can feel contented and safe in my 'shabby' surroundings. My furniture has been well loved by kids, cats and a big smelly dog. My area rugs are a little threadbare, my hardwood floors are weathered and scratched. I could have retired on stocks of febreeze and glade air fresheners, had I only thought to invest in them. My dishes, while once very stylish and expensive, I got second hand for a song, and they are chipped and worn from their many trips through the dishwasher.
Where my personal 'style' is concerned, I'm no fashionista. I shop primarily at Wal Mart... I know, but the truth is - I won't (or perhaps more truthfully, can't) spend copious amounts of money on clothing. Not that I don't get a version of 'high' off buying a couple of pieces of clothing to add to my repertoire. I buy plain stuff. Lots of black and grey... and that jewel tone green that makes my eyes look like sapphires... and then I zoozh my hair all up, add some smokin' make up and jewelry - and boom... a style. Most of my 'jewels' are costume. I mean there is some good quality stuff, but it isn't like I have any diamond tennis bracelets dangling off my wrists. Hell, I don't even have any good hair products, but somehow it works for me.
Even my style in the kitchen is fairly basic stuff... I mean I make a few dishes that might classify as 'interesting', but I'm a meat and potatoes kinda gal. Stews, roasts, meatballs, spaghetti, chowders... and anything you can bbq. Love me some fire and meat... but everyone loves to eat at my house.
I think it's because everything is just simple. Easy.
Okay... so I'm not basic, I'm easy... somehow that doesn't sound better.
It is, however, the truth... most of the time.
If I feel appreciated, I will attempt to turn my body inside out to please. Whether that is for my spouse, a friend or an employer, matters not. I leave my kids out of that list because I work pretty hard to please them much of the time, but there are few creatures on the planet that are less appreciative than teenagers... though I will say that in conversation, they do seem to note my effort.
Recently, I have had the opportunity to see the fruit of my labour with them. I am currently suffering through what I believe is the passage of kidney stones. My weekend was pretty tame, as I have been experiencing a fairly high level of pain. Yesterday, things got ramped up a little. There is more evidence of blood and the pain took on an interesting bite. I left work a little early and went home. Once there, I got myself camped out on the couch.
My girls got home from school, realized I had worsened and both of them turned into Florence Nightingale. I was brought tea, heating bags, pillows, blankets... you name it. My husband made a rare appearance between jobs and he made dinner... and cleaned it all up while I went for a bath. By the way, that is a sure sign I am super unwell. I never... and I really do mean this... never walk away from a messy kitchen if I'm leaving it for someone else to clean. Not even at someone else's home. I just can't do it.
At one point in the evening, Stretch said to nobody in particular "I hope this all turns out alright". I wasn't sure what she meant, so I asked. She was a little exasperated when she answered me. "With YOU, Mom! This is a little worrisome!" I was touched. Of course, my inner hypochondriac is worried about everything from ovarian cancer to liver issues, but the symptoms are pointing at stones or infection - or both. Hubs and I (almost in unison) said as much, and added that while painful, they were relatively minor. I should have a better idea today, as I will see my doctor in a couple of hours. Pretty sure she can test right in the office for evidence of stones. At least once I know what it is, I can relax inside... I can't say I've been entirely convinced myself.
My point, I guess, is that the things I have in my life are simple... perhaps even a little on the shabby side... but almost everywhere I look, there are people desperate to have them. People who have nicer furniture, nicer homes, better jobs... vacations... they all want what I have. That really should tell me all the things I need to know.
So, for now I will wear my Shabby Chick with pride, because the foundation on which my style has been built is actually pretty damned awesome!
Wish me luck today.
D-out
It is, however, the truth... most of the time.
If I feel appreciated, I will attempt to turn my body inside out to please. Whether that is for my spouse, a friend or an employer, matters not. I leave my kids out of that list because I work pretty hard to please them much of the time, but there are few creatures on the planet that are less appreciative than teenagers... though I will say that in conversation, they do seem to note my effort.
Recently, I have had the opportunity to see the fruit of my labour with them. I am currently suffering through what I believe is the passage of kidney stones. My weekend was pretty tame, as I have been experiencing a fairly high level of pain. Yesterday, things got ramped up a little. There is more evidence of blood and the pain took on an interesting bite. I left work a little early and went home. Once there, I got myself camped out on the couch.
My girls got home from school, realized I had worsened and both of them turned into Florence Nightingale. I was brought tea, heating bags, pillows, blankets... you name it. My husband made a rare appearance between jobs and he made dinner... and cleaned it all up while I went for a bath. By the way, that is a sure sign I am super unwell. I never... and I really do mean this... never walk away from a messy kitchen if I'm leaving it for someone else to clean. Not even at someone else's home. I just can't do it.
At one point in the evening, Stretch said to nobody in particular "I hope this all turns out alright". I wasn't sure what she meant, so I asked. She was a little exasperated when she answered me. "With YOU, Mom! This is a little worrisome!" I was touched. Of course, my inner hypochondriac is worried about everything from ovarian cancer to liver issues, but the symptoms are pointing at stones or infection - or both. Hubs and I (almost in unison) said as much, and added that while painful, they were relatively minor. I should have a better idea today, as I will see my doctor in a couple of hours. Pretty sure she can test right in the office for evidence of stones. At least once I know what it is, I can relax inside... I can't say I've been entirely convinced myself.
My point, I guess, is that the things I have in my life are simple... perhaps even a little on the shabby side... but almost everywhere I look, there are people desperate to have them. People who have nicer furniture, nicer homes, better jobs... vacations... they all want what I have. That really should tell me all the things I need to know.
So, for now I will wear my Shabby Chick with pride, because the foundation on which my style has been built is actually pretty damned awesome!
Wish me luck today.
D-out
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