Psychedelic Dressing Room 2: Monkey Needs a Hug

OK, so I’m digging this one. I didn’t notice until recently, but these things that I’ve always called overalls are called “monkeys” here. I’m not sure why, but I think it’s adorable.

You’re going to see me in these things again, because I feel like I’ve struck gold. They are overalls, but they’re maternity overalls. Disclaimer, I am most certainly not pregnant. But, the denim is stretchy. Especially in the middle, and there’s more than enough room for me to stretch everything out without feeling squished. Combined with this blue shirt (which has a little hole in it, but that’s ok), I think I found my official painting outfit for winter. Plus, bonus points, it has a little pocket in the front which is just the right size for an ice cold can of beer.

Get me a straw, and I’m set! Plus, it’s nice. I get to feel contained, and like everything is held in place, while still being able to pull in two lungs full of air.

And then, it’s also a little flexible. Not to rehash the shirt from yesterday, but if I combine the two...

I’ve kind of got this whole farm girl vibe going on. Which I’m sure might be an acquired taste for some of you lovelies out there. But for me, it straddles that line between functional and fun, which is a pretty difficult line for me to walk sometimes, to be completely honest.

The blue shirt gets four stars out of five, simply because it’s basically big enough, and I don’t mind if I ruin it.

The monkey? That’s a rare five star review from this girl. Elastic-y denim for the win. I’m going to have to stock up on these.

And probably, keep shopping in the maternity section more.

BONUS!

So, I was talking with a friend of mine. We got around to discussing how these are technically maternity overalls. The kind that are designed to keep up with, well, a pregnant body. From there, it didn’t take too much to get a preposterous idea in my head 🤦🏻‍♀️🤣🤦🏻‍♀️ (and a few more 🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️s, because I was kinda on the fence about sharing this, or tossing it in the bin).

Et, voila. A couple of wadded-up sweaters later, and getting the girls out of the way (being a little tipsy didn’t hurt...), and...

Please remind me to never get pregnant for real. I’d probably spend most of my time just trying to keep my balance.