Oh internet, I am delusional. You see, today I was at the mall and I saw a sequined dress that I instantly fell deeply in love with. I’m very crow-like in that shiny or sparkly things draw me in and the ultimate in my mind is a black sequined dress. Nothing gaudy or too over the top, just a simple dress with sequins. Twinkling, light catching sequins. I’ve been obsessed with the idea of this dress for a couple of years now and almost bought one last year, but jparks’ holiday party was much too casual for it.

Anyway, back to the delusional aspect of this story.

I was walking through White House Black Market when I stumbled upon the perfect little black sequined dress. And then I tried the dress on and saw that the word that needs the most stress in that last sentence is little. It is hella short. I tried it on, looked in the mirror, thought “holy crap, that’s a lot of leg” and then bought it anyway because I am stupid delusional. This is the kind of dress that you either have to be 21 or Tina Turner to wear and unfortunately I am neither of those. But I’m keeping it and wearing it to jparks’ work holiday party.

If I had one of those ever popular Life Lists “wear a sequined dress” would be on it. I know right now I’m not in the best shape to rock a dress with a “high hemline” but chances are, in the future I’ll be in worse shape. I’m also well aware that this dress doesn’t have to be the one that fulfills my desire, in fact Target has a really cute sequined dress right now, but I figure go big or go home. Or in this case, go teeny tiny hemline or go home.

So there you have it, I have lost my mind and bought a short sequined dress that is not meant to be worn by an adult of my size. And I have bought it to wear around jparks’ coworkers. I’m considering it payback for last year’s holiday party where jparks got drunk and yelled in the middle of the dance floor “I have poo issues! I can’t poo if people can hear me! So what!” Honestly, I think what he did was worse. It’s one thing to have an inappropriately dressed wife, it’s another to loudly share the requirements of your bowel movements while people are trying to dance to YMCA.

Can anyone make a shoe suggestion to complete the look? Also, the model is wearing fishnets with open toe shoes, are we rocking that look now? I was going to maybe wear opaque tights so I don’t blind people with my white legs, are open toe shoes okay with them? Is it acceptable with tights so long as they aren’t reinforced toe? I’m so confused because open toe shoes with tights have been such a fashion no for me for so long that even the idea of wearing them together feels wrong. And can someone talk me out of buying this tank? So shiny!

We are in the middle of a heatwave here in the Bay Area and it kinda sucks. Although, honestly it’s not that bad because there is no humidity and I have air con, but right now I generate so much internal heat that I need no environmental help staying warm. And of course, I’m ill prepared for high temperatures as the bulk of my maternity clothes are jeans and other things that are make me sweat through my deodorant by just looking at them. So today I hit the mall in search of maternity dresses that would provide a bit of summer relief and would possibly still be flattering on my new weirdly shaped body.

Of course, I figured my stomach would be the big hurdle when clothes shopping but I was wrong. Dear internet, let me introduce you to my boobs:

Holy crap, they need to stop growing. When I put on tops and dresses you can hear the fabric screaming as it struggles to hold them in. That dress was cute, but I had to go up two sizes to get it to fit in the breast region. I bought it despite that, figuring that surely my stomach is bound to catch up with my giant breasts at some point and until then it’ll just be a less flattering dress. It’s funny how pregnancy combined with extreme heat changes your clothing standards.

And speaking of clothes, look at what I also bought over the weekend:

I really need to stop going to Janie and Jack because between those two jackets and the hoodie that I bought, I’m making myself sick with the cuteness.

And finally, to totally change the topic of this post, when do you call it quit with Netflix movies? I’ve had The Holiday at home for about two months now, yet I haven’t watched it. If I really wanted to see it wouldn’t I have carved out two hours from my very busy tv watching schedule for it? But on the other hand, I put it in my queue so I must want to see it. Do you have a rule of thumb for situations like this? Like if it sits for a month, then back it goes? Or if it sits for a month then you make yourself watch it immediately? Because these are the kind of big decisions I am unable to make.

Yesterday I went to the mall to return a few things and to start the fun adventure of shopping for a dress to wear to wedding when I’m too big to fit in my regular clothes, but too small to properly wear maternity clothes. And while now might not be the best time to spend money on new clothes, all of my current dresses were struggling to contain my boobs and no one wants to be that girl at a wedding. You know, the kind of girl that you see and have to sneak pictures of because, really, who sluts it up that much at a wedding?

I wasn’t planning on dress shopping while I was at the mall so I wasn’t properly prepared. Let’s just say that when it’s cold and you feel like crap, it’s pretty hard to motivate yourself to shave. And for me, that includes armpit shaving because I just want to get in and out of the shower as fast as possible. (am I the only one that hates showering when they don’t feel well? All that standing just requires so much effort.) I figured I could get in and out of the fitting rooms without being bothered and this was the case at Banana Republic, J. Crew, and Macy’s. It was not the case with White House Black Market.

I don’t know if the girls at White House were just really bored, or if I’ve forgotten just how hands on their customer service is because they were all over me. They brought me at least 8 dresses to try on and I had to step out of the room to see a mirror. The first time I came out one girl was at my feet slapping heels on me and another was giving me a wrap to try and both of them had to get a good look at the hair I’m sprouting.

I will give them credit because if they were taken back by the hair, they didn’t show it. But that only made me more uncomfortable. I so wanted to apologize but there’s really no way to do that without making yourself seem like even more of a freak, you know? “Sorry I’m so hairy, I wasn’t expecting to come shopping today. Not that I only shave when I’m going shopping. Because if that were the case my husband would want me to shop more often. Maybe I’ll start applying that to my life. Um yeah so, uh, sorry.”

In the end, partially out of guilt and partially because the dresses were all so cute, I walked out for four new dresses for one wedding. The majority of them are going back after I can try them on without salegirls fawning over me and declaring each one cuter than the last. Although part of me wants to take them back to another location so the same girls won’t see me and judge me again for the hair. And so I won’t feel compelled to try on more clothes just so they can see that I’ve finally shaved. Not that I have shaved but I’m sure at some point I will. My laziness is bound to fail sometime.

Yesterday jparks and I were having a fight slight disagreement, as we often do on the weekends, and I would love to tell you exactly what we were disagreeing about, I haven’t the slightest idea. And while I normally don’t enjoy disagreeing with jparks, yesterday’s fight ended with me not having to deal with his clean laundry anymore, and OMG that makes the disagreement totally worth it.

See, jparks has the tendency to wear fancy clothes, unlike all the other engineers at Google who happily wear their free Google tee shirts. But not my jparks, daily he wears slacks and button downs that have to be ironed. By me. All the freaking time. If I don’t get stay on top of the laundry, the pile can easily grow as tall as our dresser and then I have to spend a full weekend day ironing.

But now I’m free and the man who once said he has a personality and that’s why he doesn’t wear khaki pants will now be in charge of his own laundry. Yesterday afternoon I pulled all of my clean clothes out of the pile, ironed them, and put them away. As things come out of the dryer I throw jparks’ stuff onto his growing pile and my stuff gets put away. You wouldn’t believe how much quicker the laundry goes when I’m only dealing with half of it.

The only downside is that now jparks will be wearing his clothes wrinkled since he won’t iron. Because you know, nothing says “I won’t wear a tee shirt because I’m better than that” like wearing horrifically wrinkled clothes. Should you see him in the next few days and he looks like a homeless guy heading to a business meeting, please feel free to make fun of him. That’s assuming you can talk through your laughter.

Tonight jparks and I had a date night. For us this meant we went to dinner and then shopping for a jacket for him. If you’re asking yourself how we manage to keep the romance alive in our marriage, here’s a few hints: Banana Republic and J.Crew. Aw yeah, the couple that shops together, bow chicka wah wah. Kidding. We really just shopped, came home, and watched tv. See, exciting.

Anyway. We went to the mall so we could maybe, hopefully, please god, find jparks a new blazer/sportcoat type thing in black. When we drove into the parking lot he saw the two story Pottery Barn and declared, with much elation, “Ohhhhh, Pottery Barn!” I called him gay and got in trouble. I’ve since been corrected (by him) and was told he’s metrosexual and I’m not to call him gay anymore. Gaw, gay guys are so sensitive.

We found him a coat at Banana Republic and then headed to J.Crew where all the sale items are currently an additional 50% off. That’s like free. So I did the one thing I hate to do while shopping and tried on some clothes. Normally I’m the person that will buy one pair of pants in two sizes, take both home, try them on at my leisure, and return whatever pair doesn’t fit. But when J.Crew does it’s big clearance type sales, they don’t accept returns so I’m left with no choice.

Here’s me after trying on four pairs of pants:

I was sweaty, red faced, hair a mess, and really pissed off. After seeing this picture, do you have any idea why jparks wouldn’t want to have sex with me, because I have no idea.

The effort of trying on things was worth it because I ended up getting a pair of pants and a dress for the low low price of $34. Total. That, my friends, is a bargain that I couldn’t pass up. Which totally makes up for jparks’ crazy expensive jacket. Gaw, gay guys are so snobby about clothing. Only the best, most expensive things will do.

In the spirit of Slynnro’s NoImYoSeMo (November Improve Yourself Month) I’m going to talk about clothing and shopping. To the boys out there, sorry to bore you, but look BACON!

Have you been watching Tim Gunn’s Guide to Style? I have and it’s almost sad the way I hang on Tim’s every word of fashion gospel. If Tim says jump, I jump. Repeatedly, until my knees give out and I cannot jump anymore.

But while I love Tim and his advice, normally I feel disconnected from his advice seekers who appear to be fashionably brain dead. Most dress very age inappropriate or look like they don’t own a mirror. They look hopeless and overwhelmed by the idea of shopping, which is not something I can’t relate to. Yes, I might have to shop around a bit to find just the right dress, but I can do it, I have the know how and the ability. I know I’m not a fashion expert, but I do think I can put together reasonably attractive outfits that don’t make others want to call famous people to help dress me.

And this air of superiority I had was firmly in place until last week’s episode when the girl wasn’t that bad. Yes, her mini skirt date outfit was bad (I can’t find a picture but trust me, it was whore-y), but overall she had a ton of clothes in her closet that were cute. Most of Tim’s advice was to keep in mind that she’s petite and everything will need to be hemmed or altered. And that she needs to shop with specific items in mind, instead of just buying things on whims. And that jeans in a dark washed denim look more appropriate on an adult than lighter jeans. And that hello Regan Parks, this girl could be you, PAY ATTENTION.

So I did. After the show was over I started digging in my closet and pulled out numerous dresses, jackets, and pants to take to the tailor. The length on all of them are just a bit too long and I have a feeling I’ve not been doing my short stature any good. Next up is a serious inspection of everything left in my closet and a good purging of things that really don’t need to stick around. And the last thing on my to do list is buy a new pair of fancy premium jeans.

Jeans have been the one thing I can’t justify spending money on. Gap’s long and lean jeans fit me well and are cheap, so why bother paying more? Except that I’m starting to see that they fade and wear thin rather quickly. It seems I buy a pair and am back ordering another almost immediately and that’s starting to suck. So I’m setting out to buy a premium pair of jeans, like a real adult.

So, what brands do you suggest? Is Nordstrom the best place to go denim shopping? Am I out of my mind to want to pay that much for jeans? Are there any brands that are best for short girls? What’s the deal with trouser jeans? Is it true that when I start wearing premium denim I’ll start pooping rainbows? I think I read that somewhere.

Do I need these shoes?

I think I do. Can they be worn with skirts? Like a black skirt with tights and then these shoes? And how cute would they be with black slacks. Cute, right?

Jparks and I are having a tivo standoff. The tivo in our bedroom (also known as my tivo since it records Gossip Girl, 90210, and Project Runway. All vital to my existence) has been crapping out this week. It records shows with no problems, but will not let you watch them. When you hit the tivo button on the remote, it takes about 15 minutes to respond. And lately its typical response is just to freeze up. It has only been doing this since jparks messed with our internet settings and I want him to fix it. For the love of all things holy, make the tivo let my Gossip Girl go, jparks! His solution is that we buy a new tivo. He claims this one is old. I claim he’s crazy.

This is the tivo we got after Katrina so it’s only three years old. Jparks insists that “OMG THREE YEARS OLD! Take it behind the barn and put a bullet in its head!” I insist that he’s fucking crazy and I’m not shelling out for another tivo after only three years. Doesn’t that seem like a short lifespan for a tivo? Shouldn’t it last at least five years? Dammit tivo, I signed up for a long time relationship, not a quick fling where you have your way with me in our bedroom and then leave without saying goodbye. I feel so cheap and used.

And now a question (has this post been all questions? I think it might be. It’s because I respect you guys so much that I want your input. And because I am dumb. dumbdumbdumb) What would you wear on a ten hour, overnight flight? I know not pajamas because ew, but what? I want to be comfortable and plan on sleeping, even if it means taking something to knock me out. Normally I don’t sleep on planes because I can’t get comfortable to save my life, so what can I do to boost my relaxation level up a notch? Would you wear shoes that you can kick off in your seat? Like crocs? (I know, shut up) Should I skip the pants and wear a skirt? I should I change into a bathrobe in the bathroom and walk back out to my seat like it’s nothing? (how awesome would that be?) Help me!

While packing for BlogHer it occurred to me that my pajamas are beyond ratty. Knowing that I was rooming with Whitney and not jparks, who is very used to my scrubs that are so old they are basically transparent, prompted me to think “I should go buy some new pajamas.” But I didn’t actually go buy new pajamas, I simply dug out some yoga pants and a tee shirt and called it a day, because that’s how much I respect Whitney, enough to cover my naughty bits around her, but not with the proper garments (on a side note, at one point over the weekend I did fall asleep naked but wrapped in a towel. So that thing about respecting Whitney? It just jumped out the window)

I honestly hate buying pajamas. And underwear. And right now I desperately need both. I know some people hate the shopping for underwear portion of the experience but I actually like that. I don’t mind bra fittings, even really touchy feely ones. I don’t mind that I’m one size in regular clothing and the next size bigger in pajamas and underwear. Nothing about the experience bothers me expect for paying for the items I need. I hate shelling out money for pajamas. I hate paying for bras. And I will spend a stupid amount of money of shoes, but then go cheap cheap cheap for underwear. (Although I draw the line at CostCo underwear. That’s just wrong)

And the fact that bras can easily be the most expensive item of clothing I’m wearing on any given day just pisses me off. No one (except maybe jparks if I’m feeling giving) is going to see it, so why should I have to spend a crapload on them? I’m not trying to make a fashion statement with pajamas, I’m just trying to comfortably sleep in them, so why can’t they be cheaper? GAW, this really pisses me off.

Maybe if I make a day our of the pajama and underwear shopping that’ll ease the pain of spending the money. Who’s up for a champagne brunch and an afternoon of shopping? Anyone? Bueller?

Last month two friends of ours eloped and last night was the wedding reception. So there we were at this lovely wedding reception and what do I do? I get totally drunk. Like three sheets to the wind, not sure how I even remained upright, possibly drank more than one bottle of wine by myself drunk. It was not pretty.

I’m not even sure how I got that drunk. I planned on having a few drinks and expected to get a little tipsy, but I seriously didn’t plan on passing out in my makeup when we got home. I woke up this morning with black eyeliner smudged under my eyes. It was not pretty, although it did kinda have that sexy look that I can’t achieve when I’m doing my own makeup.

Most of the people at the reception are not folks we see on a regular basis and when we do see them I’m not normally drinking. I’m now trying to run through the bits of the night that I can remember and see if I said or did anything asinine. God, I want to die just thinking about it. I’m pretty sure I told various folks that I was hot. And then I might have touched a finger to my bum and made a sizzling noise. Booze + 4.5 inch heels + a little black dress + some makeup = Regan feeling all sexy and mouthing off about it to every person that commented on her shoes. (not to linger on an off topic, but those shoes are bad ass. When the salesgirl asked me if I liked them I told her I wanted to go make out with them. When jparks and I got out of the car at the wedding he said “Baby, you look really slutty tonight!” “Uh, thanks honey.” “No it’s a compliment, I LOVE SLUTS.”)

I am just horrified. Did I mention that I’m horrified? I AM HORRIFIED. Sizzling noise! What person actually does that to themselves? Paris Hilton maybe, but not me.

And folks, if I thought I felt like death after that one beer earlier this week, then you can only imagine how crappy I felt this morning. And I didn’t even get to sleep in, I had to get up and go work a Giants game. Thankfully there were fried foods in the suite. Nothing makes a hangover better faster than fried foods. Unless it’s fried foods and a fountain diet coke.

No more booze. No more not paying attention to the number of refills I’ve had. No more skipping a glass of water between drinks. No more making an ass of myself in front of people that might not be expecting that from me. No more touching my own bum and making a sizzling noise. The next time I wear those shoes I can’t let their power go to my head.

You how some folks say they have a mountain of laundry to do but then that mountain turns out to be a small-ish hill, and not mountain like at all? I hate those people. Jparks and I truly have mountain of laundry to deal with and it’s existence has been eating away at my soul for weeks. WEEKS, I tell ya! Laundry is just not something that either jparks or I have any interest in.

Actually, that’s a lie. I love the laundering part of doing the laundry. I love sorting pieces into piles: dark colors, pastels, whites, bleachable whites, gentle cycle items, no fabric softener items, items that need to go into these awesome mesh bags that you can only find at Japanese dollar stores, etc. It’s a sickness really. I love filling the washer and measuring out the detergent. It all appeals to the OCD side of my personality. But once the items come out of the dryer I want nothing to do with them. And that’s where our mountain of laundry comes into play.

We have a hamper tucked into a corner for our dirty laundry but no real spot for clean laundry. Why should we? Shouldn’t it go directly from drawer to closet? ha. In order to accommodate our laziness we have added an ugly plastic hamper to our bedroom and all the clean laundry gets deposited right into it. And then more gets deposited. And then some more. Until we have this:

Cat included in picture for scale. And I know she’s blurry, but look at that tongue! OMGZ!!1!

Dude, that pile of laundry is almost as tall as our dresser. And notice that it is spilling over and spreading onto the floor. That pile of laundry contains all of jparks’ socks. And possibly all of my underwear. And probably all of jparks’ shirts. But do we care? Does it motivate us to fold it? Hell no! It does, however, motivate us to wish for magic laundry folding elves. And jparks will regularly wish for the ironing fairy to come so he has shirts to wear to work.

The real pain in the ass part is that, by the time I cave and start folding and ironing, I have at least 8 hours of work ahead of me. You would think that would motivate me to fold as soon as the stuff comes out of the dryer, but it doesn’t.

Maybe the solution is for jparks and I to join a nudist colony. We could spend our days playing volleyball and when I run the marathon I won’t have to worry about bloody nipples. Of course, we would never see our friends again, but such is the price of being laundry free.