I Change My Mind

First of all, no need to point out--or talk ruthlessly behind my back--about how horrible my blog layout is at the moment. There's a kink I'm trying to figure out, or getting husband to figure out, so until it's either fixed or I create a new blog site: don't judge me for being tacky. 

Onward....

I can't help but dream about post-pregnancy body and post-pregnancy clothes. Last night I dreamt I had the little guy and I literally watched my stomach shrink back to it's original size. Dream Adam was looking over my shoulder going "yes!" 
p.s. Don't hate on me for wanting the little guy in my arms, not stretching out my skin. 

So I've stayed current with trends--not wearing, of course, just observing from the sideline (like the fat, uncoordinated kid), and awhile back I realized that one of my worst fears has become a reality. 

The 70s are back. 

I despise 70s fashion. 

Aside from the occasional classic faux fur piece or high waisted trouser, I hate the 70s. I feel like it was such a goofy, awkward time for fashion. It was like everyone threw all their creative energy into the amazing 60s that there was nothing left afterward. The country basically gave up for a decade and fried their brains until burnt orange became a good idea. 

BUT--And this is a huge BUT--the modern take that designers have created on 70s fashion today is so SOPHISTICATED IT KILLS ME. I think I'm kind of in love. Just kind of. It makes me want to pop out the kid, store up as much boob juice as possible, and diet hardcore so I don't have any added weight killing my feet when I buy a pair of sick 70s pumps--Q rolling eyes and stink-eye stares. 

Just humor me, even if you don't find me humorous.