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I CONFESS, I'M A SECRET FAN OF THE TRACKSUIT

Women dress for other women. At least that's what I firmly believe. Most of us don't really dress for men because men usually like what we wear anyway. They're unlikely to gasp 'OMG, it's McQueen!' when they see you in your new designer dress that you paid a small fortune for.

Of course, some women will insist that they dress 'just for me'. Now, pull the other one. Say you are the only woman left in the whole world. Seriously, imagine it. It's just you left. Are you going to spend ages doing your hair and make-up, decide which high-heeled shoes go best with which bag, and wear Spanx to suck you in, knowing that you will never see anyone ever again? No.

Now, I am the type of woman who spends much more than I should on clothes. I have six wardrobes full of clothes and yet I can never find anything suitable to wear on a night out. I have a lot of clothes that I am keeping for when I am slim, and a few dodgy items that have never suited me, but because they cost a lot of money I am loath to discard. I have more than 20 tracksuits. Yes, the shame! I think I have a tracksuit in every colour. Before I became a mummy I wouldn't have been caught dead in a tracksuit, unless playing some kind of sport. But now that I'm home a lot, I find them comfy for lounging around and you can throw them in the washing machine when the baby pukes on them.



Slovenly

Actually, before I became a mummy I considered the tracksuit one step up from pyjamas. I considered anyone who wore a tracksuit around town shopping to look slovenly. Now I am a fan. Of sorts. I would not go to Mass in one, and definitely wouldn't meet a friend for coffee wearing one. It's not that my tracksuits aren't nice, because I do tend to go for trendy ones, but I'm small and runners aren't a good look for me.

Anyway, the little lad was starting in playschool last week. I got him a new outfit and a Bob The Builder school bag. Then I started wondering what I should wear to drop him off. Now, I always swore I wouldn't be like some of the yummy mummies that I see outside the local school in their 4x4s, wearing cashmere twin sets and pearls.

And yet, I found myself fretting. I couldn't wear a tracksuit. I couldn't wear jeans. I couldn't wear a dress because that would be OTT. So I opted for black trousers, black heeled boots and a belted red coat. Then when we got to the school it was closed. Nobody had told me it was shutting for mid-term. So there we were. All dressed up and nowhere to go.


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