The Best Kept Secret Blog - Moving Out Of My Comfort Zone

Fashion diva? Not quite. Fashion victim? It depends on who you ask. Fashionable? Now we're getting closer.

I do love clothes. But this morning, my clothes didn't love me.

Rushing to make it in time for my daughter's baseball game, I threw on a pair of jeans and headed for the door.

It wasn't until later, sitting in traffic en route to the game, that I became aware of how my stomach was spilling over the waist band of my pants. I glanced down and saw rolls of flesh contorting my belly button into a smiley face.

Things got worse at the game. Giving a little jump for joy in the third inning when my daughter caught a pop fly, I noticed a distinct breeze playing around my mid-drift. It seems my Lycra infused top and my lowish cut jeans had had a falling out because one was going north and one was going south and I was showing way more belly than this 45 year old woman was ever meant to show.

Now this is far from the first time I've had a muffin-top experience. I've owned these jeans for more than a year. I've belted and tucked and hitched scores of times as I've struggled to keep my private zones from making an unwelcome appearance and my tummy from jiggling like out of control jello on steroids.

But for whatever reason, this morning was the last straw.

I opened my mouth and declared to no one in particular, "I want comfortable clothes!"

Then almost immediately I clapped my hand over my mouth in shock as the realization of what I had just said hit me.

For me, comfort has more often than not equated to letting myself go. "Comfort" calls to mind elastic waistbands on polyester pants paired with brown or black (so they don't show the dirt, of course) sensible shoes.

I'm the woman who has permanently damaged her baby toe because the gorgeous beige pumps were on sale and only half a size too small. I'm the woman who wore thong underware long before it became fashionable in an all out attempt to avoid VPLs (Visible Panty Lines).

My smarter (read less vain and shallow) friends have had the comfort thing figured out for some time. But not I. When forced to choose between fashion and fit, I'm embarrassed to say that fashion won more often than not.

But after today's revelation, I'm making a move towards the other camp. And while I'm not yet ready for the polyester and elastic brigade, I will be on the lookout for some savvy marketers who can give me the best of both worlds - comfy clothes that make me look great.