Fashion distraction

This farm blog is still in infancy but I must abandon topics of feline hygiene & rodent infestation to discuss something all together different: Fashion.

I know, I’m not exactly queen of couture. Fashion conscious means a clean pair of non-riding jeans. Just last yr my friend Emma (nanny/florist extraordinaire) saved me from my post-college wardrobe by purging the closet and dragging me and my credit card to Tysons. So I have a bit of a clue.

Anyway, I’ve been sorting through the kids’ clothing since Hadley the Barbarian outgrows outfits overnight. Seriously, that kid eats a big meal and she’s popping out of her pants. So, I’m sorting and boxing and I come across this…see pictured above.

My first thought: Yucko, who handed this down?

Then, I see the tags on it. Someone in this house actually bought this fugly ensemble??

Now, unless the dog has finally puzzled out how to steer the car and reach the pedals, there’s only one possible perp: my husband… went shopping… at Walmart.

The realization is a double whammy. Not only has Martin spent money on heinous clothing for the girl, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s also purchased random crap — things that seem useful but are just clutter. I’m talking about giant tupperware storage containers, a set of gardening tools, plastic cups that won’t crack in the freezer, a board that helps you fold shirts (yea, like he does a laundry all the time.)

I confronted him with the lovely purple-Hanes-premium-Made in Honduras-polyester/cotton- sweat suit and he fessed up (guys are lousy liars, by the way). Turns out, on my last biz trip, he bought this fugliness in lieu of doing laundry!

Well, Martin’s got the WalMart ban. Similar restrictions have been placed on him for rampant shopping at Target and Bed, Bath & Beyond. And Hadley will be spared from the purple nightmare.

So Emma, shield your eyes from this hideousness. Don’t worry, no intervention is needed. Even I can handle this one.