Friday, December 30, 2016

Maybe in 2017...

I’ve really sucked at this blogging this this year.  Sometimes I feel like I kind of just half-assed it through part of the year. Or like I’m running after my life, which is speeding ahead of me, my fingers just brushing it as I reach forward at a full sprint.

Maybe this is just adulthood. Motherhood. Career.
Frosting Face - or "How my kids became the Joker"

Celebrity deaths and politics aside (which so much has been written by others, I have nothing to add) 2016 was not a bad year. I got a promotion. My children and family are happy and generally healthy. My younger sister is engaged. I finally got some medical stuff figured out and started to lose some of the baby weight (plus some put on by a sluggish postpartum thyroid) and got rid of the brain fog that came with it.

Yet with all these things, time seems to go so quickly and the days fill up so fast. Lunch hours are dedicated to the gym or work meetings (because who doesn’t love a working lunch). Evenings are set aside for dinner and a couple whirlwind hours with the twins, bedtime, some unwinding time with the husband (we will never get through the Netflix queue), sometimes more work, and then my bedtime. Wake up when it’s still dark and do it all again. Weekends are spent with the twins, extended family, or doing all the things I don’t have time to do during the week because days are only 24 hours and my body still thinks it needs sleep.

Really all my issues would just be solved if I could get a couple more hours out of every day. I don’t care if that’s via less sleep or slowing the earth’s rotation and adding some actual hours to the day, it would be super helpful. There’s lot of things I would do with the extra time, and lots of goals I have for 2017.

Maybe in 2017 I’ll get my shit together and manage to write more. I’ll capture more moments with the girls. I’ll pick up my real camera again and take more pictures with something other than my phone. I’ll slow down and enjoy everything a little more.

Maybe in 2017 I’ll get some time alone with Husband. We’ll go on a date that involves wearing something fancy and it’ll be just the two of us eating and I won’t have to say things like “Don’t touch your hair,” or “Please use your fork,” or “Chew, chew, chew,” during our meal.

This doesn't count shoes I have in filing cabinets.
I mean, who has paper files anymore?
Maybe in 2017 I’ll have the chance to spend more time with my sisters or my mother and father. Sometimes it feels like even the time with them is so busy making sure no one hurts themselves or someone else you never really get a chance to visit.

Maybe in 2017 I’ll manage to get this new project at the office I’ve been tasked with totally under control and underway, turning it into a success.

The again, maybe in 2017 I’ll just continue to chase life. I’ll do all of the above things, some days with more ferocity and dedication than others. Maybe one day I’ll get close enough to grab on to life for a second and treasure a moment. I’ll get time to stand still so I can appreciate a frosting covered face, a kiss, a laugh, a breeze or an accolade. I’ll be able to grab that second and file it away with all the other moments you keep, and when you think back on them they make you smile. Or maybe in 2017 I’ll just try to clean out the shoe collection from under my desk, because this shit is getting a little out of hand. 


Friday, July 15, 2016

Books, Bedtime and Bad Things

After dinner yesterday I was playing with the girls when the first reports of the terror attack in Nice, France started showing up on my phone. News alerts, Facebook; I wanted to know what was going on. S wanted to wear one of my bracelets to bed and D was trying to decide if she was going to wear a tutu to bed.

I finally decided that I need to focus on my twins and the precious little time I get with them every day. The horrors of the world will still be unrolling on Facebook and every major news network when they’re sound asleep. As I put my phone down D walked up to me and handed me a book.

“Night-night book,” she said sitting down next to me.

I stared down and felt a lump in my throat. The book was “Brush Mona Lisa’s Hair.”

France is under attack again and here I am staring at one of the most famous paintings in the world, which resides in the French’s most famous museum…and my little girl has no idea. She just likes interacting with the pictures.

We are reading about Frans Hals’ The Laughing Cavalier, playing with his collar, and over an ocean she doesn’t know about other children are dying because of the evil that exists in this world. How do I save them from it?

Even in bed they're in constant motion. 
How can I keep them innocent? Thinking that all it takes to be a princess is to wear a tutu or a dress, that they are always beautiful, that their momma is a princess, Daddy is the funniest man in the world, the dog is as much a part of the family as anyone else, and every color is pink.

How do I ever look into their eyes and tell them about the world that exists now when their chief concern is if I’m ok when I cough or if their sister is ok when she is crying. These are girls who climb into each other’s crib during nap time so they can be close to one another. 

As one blows on the feathers of the angels in Raphael’s Sistine Madonna the other one picks out another book. Night-night books are plentiful now and there’s always one more they try to slide in to delay bedtime just a few more minutes. And you know what, I’ll let them. Tonight we can have just one more book, and then maybe another one after that, because someday I will have to talk to my girls about the bad things in the world. Bad people, bad events, bad days, things that make us sad, things we can change and things we can’t. But right now, tonight and tomorrow, there’s time for one more book. The bad things will still be there when it’s over, so let's do something to keep them at bay for just a few more minutes. 

Once all books are finished and put away, and kisess have been doled out, they have been tucked in, each to their individual liking, as I shut the door sweet little voices from their cribs say, “Momma, I love you a moon annnnnd back.”  

I love you too baby girls. All the way to the moon and back...and back....and back again. 

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Dropping the F-bomb

Why are four letter words so easy to say?

I mean for us adults they just roll off the tongue in a variety of situations. I haven’t counted how many I use in a day, but it’s up there. I tried to stop once but it turns out not swearing is bullshit that other people do. It’s like cooking or running marathons. Great for some people, but totally not for me.

It turns out that four letter words are equally easy to for toddlers to say.

How is it that the kids say “beek-a-poo” when playing peek a boo, but “Fuck” is loud and clear. Monkeys are commonly referred to as “on-keys” but “oh shit” doesn’t seem to be tripping them up.

Husband said in their defense we probably say “fuck” a lot more than “peek-a-boo.” I'm not sure about that, but the two may be neck and neck. My two-year-old twins are dropping f-bombs at the dinner table while I have a post-work cocktail. They have also recently learned to growl back at the dog when playing tug, which means at least we’re not the only ones who are being mimicked for lousy language. I’m sure those growls have some cuss words in them. I mean they must after living with me for the last 8 years even my dog curses, right?

So how does one change their whole way of speaking so that I don’t raise potty-mouthed children? And do I even want to? Studies show that swearing is good for you and people who swear have a larger vocabulary and have greater verbal intelligence.

Learning everything...including the bad things. 
Maybe I should be proud of them and their f-bombs. I mean, I wasn’t too much older than they are now when I stomped my foot at a librarian and told her “Shit, I forgot my puzzoo.”

Can’t form the appropriate sounds for “puzzle” but “shit” came out ringing like crystal. And to a fucking librarian?! Pretty sure that was one of the first of many times my actions made my parents hope the floor would open up and swallow them. Then again, depending on her vocabulary maybe that librarian had a total potty mouth too. She probably just didn’t exercise it in front of patrons and their small children.

So go on kids, rock out with your “shit” and “fuck” and maybe a random "damnit" here and there thrown in for flavor. Your dad and I will try not to laugh, and we’ll tell you not to say those things (and seriously, don't ever say them in public). Even long after you have learned how to pronounce the “m” in “monkey” and stop adding another “w” to “flowers” (fwo-wers), when you’re hiding your swear words from us and cussing on the playground or via text messages (or whatever it is by then) whenever we catch you we’ll tell you not to talk like that until you’re an adult, and don’t take examples from your potty-mouth parents, but deep down we’ll know that with every “damn” comes the ability to pull out a  word like “confabulate” and “largesse” and properly use them in polite conversation.  Maybe each “shit” is a direct reflection of your love of books, and that A in English was brought to us by the letter F. 


Friday, April 29, 2016

Maternity Leave and Meternity - Not even close

Every once in a while a woman comes along, hopping around, flipping hair and flashing manicured nails and spouting off about the dumbest shit in the world, and all you can think is “You’re the type that makes women look stupid.”

Enter Meghann Foye, a woman who has written a book and spoken on the topic of “Meternity.” It’s like maternity leave, but without the baby. You know for single people without babies because it’s not fair that only people who have babies get all this time off.

I’ll let that sink in for a minute.

According to Ms. Foye, taking maternity leave is a wonderful time that allows women to reflect on
Spend vacation hooked up to this every 3 hours. It's fun!
life, learn to advocate for themselves and their family, and generally recharge.

You moms seeing red yet?

I’m not sure about everyone else’s experience, but I went into labor at night, was emailing my boss from the hospital before they wheeled me into an operating room to cut me open, pulled everything out, including two babies, and put everything back together. I then spent three days in the hospital, and came home to a constant cycle of nursing, pumping, diapers, crying, bodily fluids, no sleep, more nursing, more crying (it may or may not have been me), lots of bleeding, and some more pumping. There was also that whole healing thing I had to do since I had what amounts to a major abdominal surgery. I managed to fit some of that in as well. At week six I left my twins to go back to work because my husband and I really felt that living indoors was important and we needed the money of my full salary.

A few weeks later I took my first business trip and was gone from them for two nights and was introduced to the wonderful world of pumping while traveling.

How I started my "vacation" (This is not me). 
Sounds awesome right? Still want a maternity leave? Did I mention they didn’t sleep through the night for 13 months? What about pumping at work? That’s a lot of fun and not at all awkward as you sit in a meeting that’s running late and pray you don’t start leaking because your boobs feel like painful rocks strapped to your chest.

About the only thing that I came off my maternity leave realizing was that I didn’t want to travel as much and I wanted to make more money, and I felt like that before I had two kids ripped from my abdomen. So you know what I did? I got a different job.

Screw you and your “meternity.” You want time off, save up your PTO, or take and unpaid leave of absence. That’s pretty much like a maternity leave. Time off without pay. Sounds awesome, right? Also, why should only women get this? Don’t men need to soul search and figure out what deep meaning things they have to do with their lives? Hopefully it’s not write silly books about shit they don’t understand.

As for advocating for yourself, that’s a skill you can get without having kids or taking sabbatical, and doesn’t require soul searching. It’s called being confident and assertive. Figure it out. Men and women can both do it. Believe in yourself and the job you’re doing and then figure out how to get what you want. If your current company won’t accommodate find another job. It’s not easy, and it takes balls, but you can do it without vacation or pushing a baby out of your lady parts.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I should probably figure out what work I’ll be taking home this weekend since I leave on time every day in an effort to see my kids.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Reebok Stomps on Women's Dreams

Happy Alien Day!

A few weeks ago it was announced that on April 26 (Alien Day) Reebok would be releasing a replica of the the Alien Stompers Ripley wore in the 1986 movie Aliens, which were originally made by Reebok for the film.  For those who wanted something that isn’t a mid-calf gym shoe, there was a lower version, worn by Bishop, also being released.

So here we are, April 26. Everyone is celebrating Administrative Professionals Day, and a few are
also celebrating Alien Day. (For those who don’t know the date is a reference to the planet LV-426). Let’s go get our Alien Stompers on.

Oh, except all you ladies. Yeah. All you ladies that wanted a pair of Alien Stompers like the ones Ripley, our female hero, wears in the film… Reebok says “fuck you.” Alien Stompers only come in men’s sizes.

Yep. The shoe worn by one of the strongest, most iconic women on screen, a woman who unapologetically kicked ass movie after movie, who took out the Alien queen, cared for a child (RIP Newt), and proved that women can carry action movies and kick ass long before strong females were something we all so desperately looked for, is not made for women.

Reebok released a statement saying that the Alien Stompers are unisex, but apparently they were all sized for men because unisex shoe sizing isn’t a thing. Then there was also the issue that any sizes lower than a women’s 8 didn’t even appear to exist.

Creating a shoe based off of a female character and sizing it for men is idiotic. If you want it to be inclusive why not size it for women and let the men do the math on that one?

Of course there were also only 426 pairs made, all of which have already sold out, so even if you want a pair and can wear a man’s shoe, you’re shit out of luck.


“Game Over, Man.” 

Dear Reebok, Ripley is pissed. 

Monday, April 4, 2016

Balance it All

Every month I say I’m going to write, and then every month goes by with me writing less and less. I am still active on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram if you follow me there, which I hope you do because if this is how you get your Cat in Heels updates, then you’re woefully behind.

So what’s been happening? The twins turned two, I still work a lot, I haven’t been shopping and have bought zero new shoes for me (the twins on the other hand…) and I continue to stress about every little thing because I’m a generally anxious individual and a mom, which makes you more anxious, so really if there was an Olympic sport for anxiety, I would totally be a contender.

In all this working and moming and being a wife, there’s not a lot of time left for me. This weekend I sat with a friend as my twins and her two children tore her house apart and we discussed the woes of moming. There’s the working mom guilt that you never get to spend enough time with your kids, and then on the weekends you try, but you also need hubby/family time, but then there’s you a time and you could really use a trip to the salon or a few hours to buy new bras because pregnancy and breastfeeding has forever changed your boobs; but then you aren’t with your kids; and you need new Spanx because summer is coming and dresses and inner-thigh-chub-rub; so you need time for the gym, but then you don’t see your kids, but those yoga classes would be great; and I want new shoes, but my kids got new shoes; Husband says buy something and treat yourself, but shouldn’t I be starting a college fund; and oh my god my roots, seriously, that hair appointment; and I really just need a minute to not be grabbed and yelled at and stop shrieking; wow I’m gonna miss this Monday; damnit your head is hard, I think I lost a tooth… Aren’t they precious when they’re sleeping?

Happy 2nd birthday to these two monsters.
That sums up about 20 minutes in my head. The good thing is that after talking with my friend this weekend I know I’m not alone.

This is the eternal Mom Struggle. The idea of “having it all” when in reality all we should really be striving for is a little balance and to avoid getting our teeth knocked out by toddler heads (why are they so hard?). No one ever asks men how to have it all, or how they balance everything, yet in many homes men take on equal roles, helping with housework and kids and so on, and no one ever asks them about “it all.”

What the fuck does that mean anyway?

It’s some arbitrary bullshit people made up to be able to say dumb things to women when they work and have kids, when in reality that just makes us parents. Whether your job is in the house, raising kids, going to an office, traveling for work or whatever, you have to make it work, and that includes getting some me time (which also applies to dads).

So take some time. Get brunch with friends, fix those roots, buy a new bra that actually fits your boobs, wax something or just shut the bathroom door after the kids go to bed and drink wine while sitting in the bathtub. Whatever it is get some, and then make sure your significant other gets some too. It’ll help everyone be just a little bit better at that whole life/parenting thing.

Monday, March 7, 2016

Western Inspired Makes Me Sick, and other reactions to trends

I’ve always been a little iffy on trends, and since having the twins, I have fallen into the black hole of working motherhood and I don’t know anything anymore.

My younger sister had to explain Snapchat to me last summer. Needless to say, I still don’t have one. I have just accepted that in some ways I am totally, and completely out of touch.

Who What Where always seemed a little more down to earth when it comes to trends, pricing and things like that. I mean, they have a line with Target. It doesn’t get much more consumer friendly than that. So when I saw a recent article about “7 Shoe Styles You Should Definitely Wear in 2016” I took the bait. I don’t want to be totally off trend. I am wearing clothes from last year because I’m convincing myself my body is going to get with the program and loose weight soon. I haven’t bought many shoes because I’m waiting on this amazing wardrobe I’m going to buy my new skinny body…

Jesus, I wish I hadn’t looked.

This isn't a sandal. It's bullshit.
First off, sneakers are not new and different just because Gucci makes them and we all started calling them “Fashion Sneakers.” They’re still just sneakers and Adidas and Converse have been making them for decades.

Mule slides are generally a no. The chunky sandal mules of the ‘70s had a reprise in the ‘90s and went away again. Why do you think that is? It’s cause they’re ugly. Please stop trying to make this happen. Again.

Rope shoes… What the fuck? We are officially running out of ideas if fashioning shoes out of old rope like we’re taking fashion cues from the movie Castaway sounds like a good idea. Also, $800 is too much to spend on rope, even if it is in the shape of a shoe.

Western Inspired needs to stop. I feel nauseous when I look at
I hate these with the fire of 1,000 suns
anything “western inspired.” Seriously, it makes me physically ill. Western mules actually made me barf in my mouth a little. I haven’t been this spontaneously nauseous since I was pregnant.

The next trend I give a big fat maybe to, which is backless heels. I have a pair. They’re not awful. They’re comfy, rather cute and made me realize how badly I need a pedicure from a professional. They’re currently waiting to be worn until I manage to get said pedicure.

Flatforms are another trend that I feel like someone is trying to make happen along with “fetch.” I wish they would go away. It already happened in the ‘90s. I am now having flashbacks. Make it stop.

The last one on the list wasn’t even a trend so much as a heel height. “Low heels” have been around since the invention of heels. There’s always been varying heights of heels and while I personally don’t mind “low” I hate “kitten” unless you’re a little old lady at which point it’s totally cute.

All this bullshit makes me glad I’m not making an effort to be trendy. Maybe I am getting old and therefore out of touch in many capacities. Maybe kids, work, the house and general adulting have taken over my attention to trends; or maybe, I’m just not a slave to fast fashion and have more sense than to wear anything Western inspired.

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Toddler Fashionistas

Is a love of accessories genetic?

The girls have gone from shoe obsessed to everything obsessed. They love when I let them pick clothes. They like the My Little Pony socks Santa put in their stocking best ("pony, pony") are super excited about shoes and hats and tutus and getting their hair done…

Maybe not the last one so much. They actually hate getting it cut, but they love doing hair flips and mugging in the mirror as soon as we say, “All done.”

Pre-bedtime toddler selfies. 
Seriously, what two year-old does hair flips?

Playing in my shoes has now elevated to playing in my shoes and dragging my giant Voodoo Vixen bag around. Literally dragging because they can’t pick it up because it doubles as a diaper bag and is full of all of our crap. I’d consider cleaning it out so it’s toddler weight, but then the bag may disappear and I’d never see it again, and I would like to wait a few years before my handbags go missing out of my closet.

I’ve even recently shut down meltdowns with hats. When they’re both so tired they can’t even, and are throwing themselves all over the floor and making these horrid whining and crying noises while rolling around (they are seriously sooooo dramatic about it), if I ask “Who wants to wear a hat?” they both immediately stop, get up and come over to me. “Hat. Hat. Hat,” they say patting their heads.

That purse weighs as much as she does.
Of course then they have to go to bed wearing their hats (or tutus or mittens), but it’s a hell of a lot easier than fighting with them and dealing with another meltdown because they don’t have a hat.

So how did all this happen? How did my two girls become so insanely girly so early on? Was it the sparkles of the necklaces literally rubbing on my belly when I was pregnant? Shopping trips when they were babies? Shopping trips now? They fact that they play in my closet? Mimicking me?

My duck boots and a devil hat.
The other day S was sitting nicely on the couch flipping through a recent copy of In Style magazine she took off the coffee table. Just sitting there like it was totally normal, this tiny girl with a big magazine on her lap, gingerly flipping through the pages. The child who can destroy a board book in the time it takes to go to the bathroom was nicely flipping through the pages as if really taking in the fashion advice on them.

Who knows, maybe she was. Maybe I have some kind of fashion geniuses on my hands. A style obsession that begins when they can barely walk sounds rather genuine. Neither one can say S’s name, but they can both say hat, tutu and shoes.

Maybe it’s a sign of things to come, maybe it’s just a phase, or maybe it’s a sign that I better keep kicking ass at work because I have two very fashion conscious girls to clothe.

Mom tip: All those clothes take up a ton of space, so when they outgrow the stuff (a month later) resell it on Totspot. Join with code QAMOXA to get $5 towards a future purchase. Bonus: They have women's and men's clothes too so you can use the money to treat yourself.  




Thursday, January 14, 2016

F**k Cancer


What the fuck universe? I’m tired of opening Facebook every morning at the train station and seeing someone who died. The last 30 days has been a bad time to be a celebrity, particularly if your British and I am a fan of your work.

First it was Lemmy, the Motorhead frontman who prided himself on how much he could drink and toured right up to the end, passing away from an aggressive cancer just before the new year.

The Goblin King watches over my babes
Next we famously had David Bowie. When I saw it I thought it was an internet hoax, and after some frantic Googling I realized it was real and choked back tears as I sat waiting for a late train on a bitter cold Chicago morning.

Now Alan Rickman. The voice of God. The bad guy from Die Hard. The Sheriff of Nottingham. Most famously, Snape. This is a really long list, so I’ll end with that one since almost everyone but me has seen all the Harry Potter movies.

All three great. All three taken by aggressive cancer before the world was done with them.

Bowie was perhaps the biggest shock to me. As a child I remember finding the Goblin King oddly attractive. As an adult I decorated my twin’s bedroom around a Labyrinth movie poster with the Goblin King prominently looking down over them as they sleep. Through the years his music was a constant. Always pushing boundaries. Rarely making a song that wasn’t likeable, danceable, and somehow new and fresh. Bowie told us it was OK to be weird. It was OK to be different. It was totally OK to want to turn your younger siblings into goblins and become the Goblin Queen.

A sorry not sorry to my younger sister, who totally would have been made a goblin if I had the opportunity.

Motorhead was one of those bands that would have been prominently featured on a soundtrack of my 20s (which would have been a box set). From hanging out in a punk/industrial/metal bar to seeing Motorhead perform live at one of the shittiest venues in Chicago with the man I now call Husband, they were pretty much a constant. I just assumed they were immortal. Lemmy Lived a hard life with all the smoking and drinking and playing music so loud that my ears were ringing for two days after the concert. I assumed because he wasn’t already deaf and dead he’d live forever.

Movies were always a little better as soon as you knew Alan Rickman was in them. From the brilliantly evil Sheriff of Nottingham in the Kevin Costner Robin Hood movie I can’t decide if I love or hate, to the neutered voice of God in a Kevin Smith film, and his epic death in Die Hard you never got the same thing from Alan Rickman. Sure, he was a bad guy in a lot of movies, but he was a different bad guy. Since I’ve never actually seen the role he’s most known for as Professor Snape I have no opinion on that, but I can only assume he played the role brilliantly like all others.

Here’s to hoping that we don’t lose any more greats this year. Here’s to hoping that their legacies and deaths prompt more cancer research to help the millions of people currently fighting.  #FuckCancer

Click here to donate to the Cancer Research Institute.

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Closet Purges: My favorite sites

New year, same resolutions. Actually, I don’t even bother making resolutions anymore because they’re just the same damn things I try to do every year, all year.
  • Lose weight
  • Be healthier (fruit is a better snack than a Reese cup and I'm already failing at this)
  • Be more organized (at home, my office is fine)
I actually started the whole organized thing before the new year by cleaning out everyone’s closet. The girls fit in things for all of 3 months and then they’re on to the next size, and if I’m lucky everything got worn once.

While pregnant my feet went up a size and none of my shoes fit, so I started selling all of them. I also recently came to the conclusion that even if I do manage to once again fit into all the clothes spilling out of my closet, a lot of them won’t be in style, aren’t my style or are something I’ve been holding onto for far too long for no good reason (sequin mini skirt, I’m looking at you).

Husband has managed to miraculously lose weight by doing basically nothing at all except chase the twins and start exercising a few minutes a day. He found two things in his closet to get rid of and I seriously considered strangling him with a shirt because he lost weight so effortlessly and because I know there’s a hell of a lot more than two shirts in that closet that don’t fit.

With all these extra clothes sitting around I have found the perfect sites (all available as apps) to take care of all these things at all levels of luxury.

A screen shot of Tradesy
Totspot: You guessed it. They sell kids clothes, and they recently expanded to men’s and women’s clothes. Everything from the gently loved to new with tags (NWT) and original pieces that smaller designers sell, it’s a one-stop for the whole family. When something sells they email you a printable USPS label so there’s no guessing about postage. Just pack and ship. Use code QAMOXA to get $5 when you make your first purchase. Click here or download the app and sign up with code QAMOXA to save $5 off your first purchase. 

Poshmark: Everyone knows this one. Post pics of your clothes, people buy them, print a label, pack and ship. Super easy. Women’s clothes, shoes, bags and accessories and maternity only. Easy to share stuff and be seen. Click here or download the app and sign up with code PKFUO to save $10 on your first purchase. 

Tradesy: If you have a lot of luxury labels or you don’t feel like dealing with finding boxes, then Tradesy is a good fit. Tons of designer items, it takes forever to search through stuff. When something does sell you can print your own label or they’ll send you a pre-addressed poly bag to pack your stuff in. Super easy and they take women's maternity, bridal and accessories. Click here to get $20 off your purchase of $50 or more. 

My Poshmark closet.
Seriously, this could not be easier 
ThreadUp: Perhaps the easiest one of all. After creating an account you can order a clean out bag, which they mail to you. Once you get the bag fill it with clothes for women or children (sorry men), but be sure to check the labels to make sure it’s an accepted brand. Once the bag is full, have USPS pick it up and it ships off (for free) and someone goes through your stuff and they give you money for the items they accept. Items they don’t accept are upcycled. The whole company is very green and philanthropic, and while you won’t get a ton of money for your clothes, it’s by far the easiest of all the options, especially if your closet is full of good brands that are barely worn. Plus they pay you upfront for most items, so if they accept something and it doesn’t sell, it doesn’t matter. Click here to sign up and get $20 towards a purchase. 

Of course at all the sites you can also use the money you earn to buy stuff from other people, including that designer handbag you've had your eye on or a designer coat at an amazing discount simply because it's pre-loved. I have gotten some really amazing deals on each one of these sites at various times and I constantly keep a list of items I like saved for the occasional splurge. 

When all that's done whatever is still at home that you want to get rid of can of course be donated to any number of wonderful charities, many of which will come and pick up at your house.  

If you want to follow any of my closets, you can always find me by following the links above or by searching for Cat in Heels.