Rainbow Week: A Wardrobe Challenge

My last blog was all about de-cluttering my wardrobe (Kon Mari!!) and organising it into rainbow colour order (there’s no name for that, I’m just slightly mad….) I then set myself a daft little challenge to ‘wear the rainbow’ for one week, simply to encourage me to wear things I might not usually choose. So, Richard of York gave battle in vain. And Carly of Holbeach wore a rainbow. And, this is what she learned… 


Man alive I’ve missed my brogues. I have no idea why I don’t wear them. Oh, that’s right, trainers go best with jeans and joggers and I’m lazy. Ahem. 


God it’s so nice to wear a dress, this one is really bloody short though. It’s too short. I’m going to sell it on Facebook tonight. Yes! Sold it! Wahoo! I’m so cut-throat these days. Right, off to the post office. That’s that done. I bet I priced it too low, it sold so fast. Oh. God. I miss it. It was my favourite dress. It really was too short though. Oh. Fuck. The straps were extendable. I’m officially an idiot. An idiot who sold her favourite dunga dress for not enough money because it was too short but actually it wasn’t. Kill me now. 


It’s so true – colour lifts your mood. I was in a foul mood earlier (Wednesday = Weigh Day. Cake = Chubby) and this has really cheered me up. Still very annoyed at myself for the dungaree dress fiasco. 


I have bugger all green casual clothes and I think my Dorothy Perkins lace body-con dress might be frowned upon at playgroup. Also I’ve discovered all of my black clothes are no longer black. Greying vest + cropped jumper = grubby Mummy. Hey, you know what would have worked with this cropped jumper? My dungaree dress. Sob. 


Nothing beats a snugly hoodie on a chilly day. Nothing. God I really hope there’s no age limit to wearing hoodies. Is there? Christ, I hope it’s not 34. 


Turned 34 today. And by happy coincidence got to be super lazy with my wardrobe selection as my favourite jeans just happen to be indigo. Boom. 


I’m fed up of having to wear certain things on certain days now, although it was nice to wear another dress. I’m very glad stay at home Mums don’t have a uniform. If they do, it better include a hoodie or I quit. 

So, there you have it, folks. Hoodies are for life. Or at least for your thirties. Gulp. 


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