This week, I learnt I like sober raves at 6.30am. I learnt I’m great at making a chocolate cake, but not so much a carrot cake. I learnt I like networking evenings. I learnt I get more tired the older I get and you just have to suck it up and box on. I learnt that eventually I have an off-switch that I need to hit sometimes and I learnt that no matter what, seeing anyone taking heroin or glue-sniffing makes me cry. What’s this got to do with style? Not much, but I figured you may not mind. If you do, then I’m sorry, I’ll tell you what I wore while I learnt these things, if that helps?
Let’s go back to Sunday. It was to be a good day, pottering at home after a busy social weekend. I always love the idea of being busy with friends and family, but the reality is, Sundays need to be restful in order for me to recharge for the week. Despite this, last Sunday, I tried to still pack in a little something something and it backfired. I learnt (what I’ve always known, but have never fully acknowledged), that our kids like ‘activities’ and a day at home can drive them b-nanas. Even after we paid a freaking fortune for a strip of grass to be laid (it was a bit more than that, but that’s not the point) and they can play football to their hearts content, they still say “there’s nothing to do”.
So off we went on an epic family walk to the local dog park – they went mountain biking, I kept my steps up. The picture in my mind was Sound of Music, Swiss Family Robinson but the reality was more the Twilight Zone. We got abuse for having no water or snacks, for walking too fast, for walking too slow, for walking at all, for taking the dog park route and not straight to the trails, for it starting to rain (it spat for 10 seconds), for it being too hot, too cold, for their helmets being itchy, too tight, too loose, too anything. So by the time we got home, I was mainlining coffee to get through the rest of the day. I then attempted a cake for a family party. I should have stopped right there. I decided on carrot cake, cause I love cream cheese icing. I had never made a carrot cake (without my mums help) before, so it wasn’t the smartest idea. It took 20 minutes longer to cook than instructed, so I should have known by then that it was a goner. I may have decided on putting my husband in charge for the final 10 minutes so I could take a power-nap. That wasn’t my best idea.
Waking up from said power-nap, I found out that the carrot cake had burnt – really, in that final 10 minutes it decided to burst into flame? The husband decided to help by taking the top of it off, which kind of worked if you had no cares in the world, but not for a birthday boy Grandad! Anyhoo, I quickly made another cake, my go to chocolate cake I should have done in the first place. It turned out great. Except it was too hot to ice before we left for said family party. On this day I wore double stripes from Zara and felt great. Until I sat on my haunches to slice a piece of cheese at the party and the seam ripped a little on my calf. Fark. So that day I learnt I should NOT leave the house on Sundays and that Zara pants have no give.
Right, onto Monday. It was a good day, I think. I can’t remember much, cause it’s already Thursday as I write this and I can’t remember that far back. But I know what I wore – head to toe Zara again. Bloody hell, is there a pattern brewing? There were stripes involved and a lace skirt. I felt great. The day ended in a movie date night with the carrot cake killer, so that was nice. We saw Trainspotting 2, one of our favourites from the 90’s and I wanted to see how Renton, Sick Boy and Begby had fared in the last twenty years. It was good, but I got sad, oh so sad at the heroin taking reminders. I learnt, or was reminded of, how much needles and glue sniffing make me very sad and I feel quite depressed seeing it. Plus, on Sunday, we’d seen a glue sniffer in a field by a gas station, walking around like a Zombie with a plastic bag stuck to his face and that had mad me even sadder. It left me cold.
Onto Tuesday and still more Zara. Really this is getting ridiculous. I had on my new jeans and I learnt that I really really loved them. You want to know why? Because they have a skort over the top – a strip of material pretending to be denim shorts and they cover all the bad bits and the camel toe threatening. I fell in love at first sight. I wore them casually for the day and switched it up at night for another lesson learnt. I like networking evenings. I attended a really cool one on Tuesday night and really really enjoyed it. I once wrote a blog about networking and I followed my own advice, which you can check out here. I fancied up my jeans with leopard print and felt confident. Thanks leopard print and skort jeans.
Then suddenly is was 6am on Wednesday. It was raining. But I got out of bed at the 6am alarm and poured myself into some lycra (it was leopard print again). I was about to experience my very first sober rave. I had very little expectations, other than a lingering question – would I feel like a dick dancing at 6.30am? Turns out no, I did not. It was thoroughly enjoyable with just a coconut water on board and the feeling that by 8am I had nearly reached 10,000 steps. So to celebrate I took the day off exercise the following day, which is probably defeating the success of the rave. So I learnt I like sober raving in the morning. Yesterday I wore Zara again – a gingham dress and the same green jacket from Monday night’s movie date. Happy once again with the outfit. It made me feel good and that’s great.
Today was my final day in the office for the week and come Friday I am all over the Sisterhood of Style like a spider monkey. Guess what I wore? Zara. Again. There was some Shine On, Glassons and Country Road thrown in but the gauzy, floaty dress, the best part of the outfit, was Zara. Oh boy, this is getting interesting. I hadn’t realised until I sat down to write, just how much Zara features in my wardrobe. I’m really tired now, it’s 7.30pm and I’m threatening kids with all sorts to try and get them into bed to read. It’s not working. But I think fondly of my outfit. It made me feel empowered and confident. Thanks outfit.
As I reflect on this week and all that is left of it, I am thrilled at it’s outcome, I am exhausted by it’s depth and I love that I tired to do something new everyday. Don’t get me wrong, not everyday or every week is like that. No, not at all. Some days I am so overcome with tiredness and have no motivation and I flop on the couch and go to bed by 8.30pm. But this week, it was full for the right reasons – reasons I chose to be busy with. I had no obligations, except ones that I had asked for and wanted and it feels like a good solid week just passed. So I learnt I like being busy, I am best being busy, I do more, get more shit done when busy. But I like my Sundays quiet, calm and hovering around home and I like wearing Zara. A lot.
What does a good week look like for you?
Mmmmmwah, EJ, the mother of the Sisterhood. xo
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