Something Amiss?
Perhaps there is something amiss when your son’s croak from the way back of the minivan is barely audible over the music: Mom, I just can’t listen to so much rap in the morning.
Perhaps there is something amiss when your morning goodbye to your kids concludes with a cheery: And try not to get lice!
I’ll tell you one thing that was not amiss, however, and it was M.I.A. rocking the Grammy’s last night with her gigantic full term belly. She was out there with T.I., Kanye, Jay Z, and Lil’ Wayne thumpin’ Swagger Like Us like nobody’s business (love this song, love this girl, love her original Paper Planes). I just wish she’d checked with me before busting out in that polka-dotted, sheer black body suit. M.I.A. can do no wrong in my book – she is so bad ass that, honestly, she can (and does) get away with anything. But the gigantic black polka-dots translated as more Minnie Mouse than Tamil Tiger and it really, really wasn’t working for me – notwithstanding the fact that she put her beautiful belly front and center (which I fully applaud).
If I was M.I.A. (believe you me, this would not be the first time one of my reveries began with those words). So, if I was M.I.A. I would have worn a beautiful bejeweled bra with lots of structure and support for my pendulous pregnancy breasts. Nothing tacky, no fake pasties, just really really blingy – in gold. I would have worn a flowy, slightly sheer matching sarong, slung way low under my belly. The sarong would be to the floor but you would definitely see a little leg. No shoes, lots of bangles. My hair would be the same – perfectly disheveled – a few sandy salty days away from dreads – and heck, I’d even keep the black Wayfarers. And lastly, I’d borrow Gwen Stefani’s fanciest bindi and stick it to my outie belly button. If I was feeling less exotic and more street, I’d do a tiny white tank, cut off right above my belly, low low low rider baggy jeans and some cool body paint/graffiti action on my belly. You feel me?
M.I.A. if you need me, I’m right here, in Minneapolis, Minnesota – at the ready to be your stylist. I can be your Rachel Zoe. You got some balls, lady and I love you for that. I totally get that you aren’t about being glamorous and fitting into anyone’s idea of what a woman should be and that’s what makes you so freaking fabulous. Still, polka dots (even ironic polka dots) are a killer.
