I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. It happened. Maybe it was when I stopped wearing anything but mascara or possibly when I stopped washing my hair more than 3 times a month. Ooh, maybe it was when I lost the will to piece together trendy outfits and started wearing gray, a ton of gray. You know what, it might have been when I walked through Nordstrom in sweatpants. Yep, that had to be it. I’m not talking brightly printed yoga pants, I’m talking hand-me-down from the husband sweatpants. I know, I’m classy. I walked through on my way to Old Navy to buy onesies for my baby. My beast baby is growing like a weed and Target was fresh out of the size I needed. I took a hard left at the shoe section of the giant department store and the look on my face was similar to an immigrant landing at Ellis Island, a mix of shock, anxiety, and curiosity. I was out of my element surrounded by fashion forward footwear. I had to face the truth, I’m out of touch in my sweatpants.

Even better, I walked into Old Navy and was drawn to the oversized peasant shirts and solid color v-necks. I’ve mocked Old Navy for years as the place moms go to get their kids clothes and end up filling up their tote with basics with their hair in a pony tail and not a lick of make up on their face. Old Navy has varied their product by 1% since 1994 and we all know it. Yet there I was, drawn to the basics that I had sworn off before. Oh God, its happening. I enjoy Old Navy and their baggy sizes that make me feel smaller than I really am. C’mon Old Navy, I am not a size 4 but thanks for making me feel fresh in your digs.

So here I am, out of touch in my baggy sweatpants scrolling through Instagram and watching fall fashion fill my feed from women who took more than 2 minutes to get ready this morning. Bless them, for I will rejoin their ranks once again… maybe. I mean, I hope. I mean, we’ll see.