There was a part of me that wanted to stumble into this latest round of chemotherapy looking like a homeless man, in my holey leggings, stretched out tank top and Fresh Jive sweatshirt that I have hung on to since high school (which was not EGG-ZACTLY in this decade). I woke up Monday morning pouting and as I threw piles of clothing on the bed behind me looking for just the right thing to wear to chemo and I had to stop and laugh at myself. I was putting more effort into my chemo outfit that I did for work most days. However, a piece of me needed to stomp into chemo this week fingers in the air with SUCK IT CANCER written all over my face.
Thank GAWD, I am not a famous movie star (or at the very least a B-List star that cannot afford to be followed around by Rachael Zoe, saying No, No NO) because I would never make it out of the house. I fought against my impulse to simply wear the sweatpants that I had awoken in, and when I say fought, it was on the level with an MMA death match.
Finally, I slid into a pair of Jeans, and then another and then another. I was looking for an outfit that I would not hate after 6 hours in a recliner. I think you can now understand why I kept returning to the idea of stretchy leggings and worn out sweat pants.
I was on my 5th or 6th pair of jeans, when all of a sudden the picture of maternity jeans popped into my head.
Cue: Angels singing, light streaming through the windows, and Jesus himself, saying “Hey gurl, why deal with a zipper and button today.
Now, I know they are somewhere in my abyss of a basement. I have refused to give them away or loan them out because they are security to me, a promise of no judgment. (Well unless there is judgment for wearing maternity pants 4 years after having a baby). I need to know that if a particularly grueling Thanksgiving weekend arises, I can simply slide into the basement and into a stylish pair of dark wash boot cut jeans, with a soft stretchy sweat pant belly at any given point. It seemed perfect to me.
In the end, I fought against the temptation, slid into my stretchiest of Jeans and threw on a chunky necklace and called it a day. So, why all the fuss? Someone once told me that you dress for how you want to feel. So when you have the flu but have to make it through an important meeting, you dress to the nines, spend extra time on hair and make-up and even if you throw up on someone’s shoes, you know you will look great doing it.
I have been struggling with the chemo grumpies and so I wanted to go in there dressed to conquer. I was having a hard time shaking my pouting, self-pitying voice of late and I needed to walk by a mirror and have my reflection throw me a ‘thumbs up’ and yell out “GURRL, You got this!”
I never did find the perfect outfit and I cannot decide if I will give maternity jeans a shot or if I will simply use chemo as an opportunity to sniff out the new Lulumon showroom for a brand new yoga outfit. After all if hundreds of moms can stroll the mall mid-day in their yoga chic apparel, surely it will work for my bi-weekly chemo appointments, hell, maybe I’ll even do some actual yoga.