There was a time in my life when I was urban chic and I wore heals to work and I bought wine in bottles and I had a professional highlight my hair. I lived in the city and tried to channel my inner Carrie Bradshaw. I swore that when I had kids I would teach them French and not let them watch TV and feed them only wholesome organic food. Unfortunately I have noticed a marked decline in recent years of my chic-ness and last night I believe I reached an all time low.

I drove home from work in my subcompact car, took off my 2 year old beat up flats  and poured myself a large glass of wine out of the box  in the refrigerator. I parked Lucy in front of the TV and went into the kitchen to make HAMBURGER HELPER for dinner. Hamburger helper! that is neither organic nor wholesome nor even made with real cheese. And what’s worse is that when grocery shopping this week I opted for the cheaper meat – you know the 80/20 instead of the 90/10. I served the Hamburger Helper with white bread and butter (I hang my head in shame).

I don’t know when my inner Carrie Bradshaw was snuffed out and replaced with an alcoholic Rosanne Conner, but when I was upstairs later, a little drunk and trimming my hair with cuticle scissors I thought its high time for a new outfit and a night on the town.