I need a hipectomy. According to the fashion industry, anyways. I swear to you on a stack of Levi's, I tried on FIFTEEN pairs of jeans yesterday, in search of just ONE style that would not gap at my waist, pool on the floor around my ankles, be made entirely of spandex, require me to tug them up every ten seconds, make my thighs look like bratwursts, or expose my backside every time I kneel down to pick up a kid. I came up empty handed.
All I ended up choosing in the three hours I perused the mall was an adorable sundress for Addy at TCP (five dollars!) and a pack of cini-minis at Cinnabon. (Note: cini-mini consumption has nothing to do with bratwurst-y shape of thighs.)
In other news, Eli made his first attempt at a sentence today. Namely, "Wan wash Boo's Coo's." English translation: "I want to watch Blue's Clue's."