Today I took a step back and allowed myself. I was going to complete that sentence, but truly I just allowed myself to allow myself. After I dropped Bubs at preschool I went to Target. Yesterday during my phone call with a good friend, I told her how I rarely wear actual denim jeans because they just don’t look good on me. But if I now have to tell my child that she can’t wear jeggings all the time, I guess it is a good time for me to grasp the concept of not wearing jeggings and compression pants all the time.

So I went to Target. Usually I would go to Old Navy for denim, but Old Navy denim is the reason I don’t wear jeans much these days. Perhaps instead I’d try some Levis or one of the Target brands. So I grabbed some Levis in sizes ranging from 13/14 (what?) to 18/19. On the way to the dressing room I spot a denim shirt dress on the clearance rack, so I grab that, too. The pants were a disaster. Although I guess technically made of denim, they were incredibly stretchy. For a woman with big calves, they were essentially jeggings. I go for the dress. I think it looks good. So the denim goes back to the rack and I go home with the dress.

Not exactly what I intended, but a denim dress is certainly less frumpy than denim jeans, right?

This same awesome friend also suggested a few teen romance movies from Netflix to get a good cathartic cry. I landed on “The Kissing Booth,” and it did not disappoint. I’m pretty sure Molly Ringwald was trying to relive some “Sixteen Candles” glory with that one because there were certainly some allusions to the old movie. That doesn’t really matter because the core function of the movie was to ugly cry alone and reset my emotional system.

After a good night’s sleep I took it a step further: I went with my gut and told that potential client that I wasn’t going to be able to meet their needs according to their requirements. (Can I mention that I am incredibly blessed to be at a point in my life where I even think I have the ability to reject paying work?)

Done and done!