LuLaRoe Wardrobe Giveaway!

LuLaRoe is AMAZING and comfortable, and fashion-forward, and has literally saved me.

Check out my giveaway on Facebook! Follow this link to enter! https://m.facebook.com/LuLaRoeSerenaMcRae/photos/a.1706282222974569.1073741828.1706276986308426/1812573709012086/?type=3&notif_t=like&notif_id=1484175002427471&ref=m_notif

 

What Does Your LuLaRoe Say About You?

Yesterday, in the throes of disbelief I realized that almost all of my LuLaRoe was.... DIRTY! I looked into my closet, at my last clean Nicole, and then looked side to side at everything else. There was not a single other item in that closet that I would have chosen over my Nicole. So I headed straight to my kitchen, grabbed a garbage bag and headed to my closet with a newfound freedom. I was bagging up clothes like a crazy woman, and It. Was. Awesome.

 

After emptying about 30 hangers and taking them out of the closet, I set into my LuLaRoe laundry basket (yes, my LuLaRoe gets it's own basket) and was determined to get through the entire basket in a day, to fill my now empty closet with beautiful clothing that makes me FEEL beautiful. I wanted to see it all hanging there at one time. How many of us can look into our closet and see something that fits us on every single hanger? And then I realized, these clothes don't just fit my body, they fit something even more important: my personality! 

Let's take a look at just my Nicole dresses for a second: 

 

Personality, right?! And that's not even including the beauty I am wearing right now!

 

Seeing my laundry hanging up to dry brought me so much joy, because I realized that for the first time in my life, I am CONFIDENTLY dressing my truth! I am not just dressing my body, I am dressing ME! How much greater that is than just fitting my curves; I am also fitting the complex set of experiences and traits that make me into who I am!

Then as I continued in my laundry day, I started seeing some patterns. Let's look at my leggings for a second!

 

I am certain that I have heard my husband tell me at some point, "Don't get those leggings, you already have a pair in that color." First of all: he's such a guy. Secondly: who says that I can't have a favorite color? I was slightly aware, but not entirely, that almost all of my leggings have the same colors in them, of course with variations of others, because, let's face it, I'm me. Aquamarine, turquoise and mint are my best friends. I will tell you that I bought a pair of red leggings once (it was a unicorn!) and as soon as I put them on my legs it was offensive to my SOUL! I know they look killer on whoever has them now, but for me, I kept the blue pair that matched (I was hoarding the deers) and traded the red pair, because I KNEW I would never wear them, even though I thought they were crazy awesome on someone else.

(Now let me say for a second, this is by no means a show-off or contest of how much LuLaRoe I own. We all know I have hosted a bajillion parties in the last year, earning most of my LuLaRoe for free, while my family was barely off of WIC and foodstamps. Poverty did not hold me back from realizing the importance of dressing myself with love, of caring for myself, or realizing that I am worth it. With thoughtful decisions and hard work, anyone can do this!)

So I started noticing patterns in color, but then I noticed a few other patterns as well, quite literally!

 

I love circles. It's totally a thing. I freaking love circles.

 

I also love florals. The brighter the floral the better. Throw some neon in there and I can't even go on. 

(Let me also throw in here, a note: I literally earned five of these pieces for free, and only paid full price for one of them. Host parties, ladies!) Anyway, the first floral I earned for free (the purple one!) I actually thought it was hideous. Grandma. But I had all this credit for free dresses and it had cerulean in it, so I was sold. I literally stood in the mirror for ten minutes when it arrived, in awe at myself in a floral. I never turned back. I. Love. Floral.

I could go on and on about my pattern choices, but instead I'll just leave this here.

 

I like feathers, too.

Now, there are a couple of pieces in my LuLaRoe wardrobe that I don't feel completely natural in. I love these pieces on the hanger, but when I put them on, often times they make me feel like I have to wear a certain makeup, style my hair a certain way, accessories are required even if I don't want them, and it takes a lot of effort, and then I take them off and put on my sunglasses dress. These are them. Tell me if you notice a difference: 

 

And on that note, I bought the red floral Nicole over a YELLOW version of my sunglasses dress, and I literally still lose sleep over that decision. For real. 

So laundry day opened up my eyes a little bit about my shopping tendencies. It was seriously a fun laundry day! Like a personality quiz, way better than Buzzfeed. And then I had this thought: has anyone else analyzed their personal fashion like this?! I'm sure someone has, maybe a lot of people do? But have YOU?

So, if you've made it this far (Hi, Mom!) you're officially into the good stuff! I am going to start something new in LuLaRoe Serena McRae, with the assistance of my bestie, Anna Schumacher! 

Wardrobe Profiling: What Does Your LuLaRoe Say About You?

I am going to create an album where I want YOU to photograph your leggings together, and your nicoles together, your Randys together, etc! Then Anna and I will go through your pictures and help you discover your tendencies. You can make a photo of your absolute favorite pieces that make you feel like you're sparkling, and the pieces you don't wear as often. And together we can create a fashion profile for you! 

Why are we going to do this? 1) FOR FUN! 2) I am your fashion consultant! If we can create a fashion profile for you, you might just get personal recommendations from me, outfits made JUST FOR YOU, or private messages when I find something that is literally perfect for you! 

So here's what I want you to do!

1) Photograph your favorites, then photograph your least favorites. Photograph your leggings, and your other pieces together in separate photos. 

2) Find the Wardrobe Profile album in LuLaRoe Serena McRae, and post one image of your favorite LuLaRoe pieces and caption it with your name! 

3) post your other photographs in the comments of that picture.

4) Get ready to have a fun conversation about your shopping tendencies, your personality, your styles, and whatever else!

5) Recieve LuLaRoe recommendations from me! 

This is going to be fun!!! As fun as my love for blue!

 

LuLaRoe: Fear No Print

LuLaRoe is pretty well known for the craziness of their prints! Personally, I think it's a great reputation to have, but I know that many of us may find busy prints daunting. I'll be the first to say that this print in the Nicole dress wasn't something I thought I would ever wear. However, a talk with my favorite cosmetology friend taught me that it is important, and very simple to break up the busyness of a piece.

 

Let's take this Nicole dress as our example. It is nuts! Every inch of it is packed full of rich color and texture. This print is definitely a DTY type 3 dress. It is a picture of texture and warmth. But it can also be pretty overwhelming! First things first, this piece needs to be surrounded by solids. Brown belt, to find your waist, or draped on your hips, and solid brown boots. A simple jean jacket or vest will frame the fun of the print, and tone it down to a manageable yet fabulous level. If you're loving the busy, boho style, be brave and throw a cream lace duster cardigan over this beauty, and some braids in your hair! (Since I just wrote that, I absolutely need to hit up target now and try it! 😱) 

 

So we used some solids to break up the intensity of the print, but now comes the fun part. With a busy print you get an overload of color, which gives you an entire spectrum of options for accessorizing! Bronze and gold metals, glass beads, bone beads, wood, seashells, minerals and gems! Seriously, how gorgeous would a bronze cuff be with this dress? Metal earrings? Gah! 

 

 

I pulled out some of my favorite pieces and discovered that this dress is basically made for me! But here's a little secret just for you ladies, and it's going to make you want to buy a bronze cuff of your own: this dress isn't mine. It's yours! That's right! This gorgeous, warm, boho Nicole is going in the giveaway stash!!!!

That's right! I now have a minimum of five items for our five weeks of giveaways coming up in June, and I'm not necessarily going to stop collecting goodies for you all, because, let's face it, I'm having way too much fun, aaaaand I really kind of like you guys!

Love ya! 😘

To join in on my LuLaRoe journey, gets tips and critiques on LLR styles, and to keep up on upcoming giveaways, join my to-be shopping group: www.Facebook.com/LularoeSerenaMcRae

To follow me on Instagram: @lularoeserenamcrae

www.Facebook.com/LularoeSerenaMcRae

LuLaRoe and The Incredible Irma

Okay, so yeah, I'm over here working my tush off cleaning my kitchen floor (seriously, you don't even want to know the details), and my thoughts keep coming back to, "Dang am I comfortable!" 

Today I am in the beloved, top-selling outfit for moms everywhere, the Irma top and butter-leggings! I tried to figure out how on earth to show it to you ladies with only myself, a three-year-old and a two year-old at my disposal. So here's my Real Housekeepers Of America pin-up, so you can see the AWESOME combination of baggy tunic with flattering fitted sleeves. 

 

I have been all over the place with this top.  I thought it made me look like a bag lady the first time I tried it.  That was with the recommended two sizes down from my actual size. Bag lady. Two. Sizes. Down.  What the heck kind of top is that?  Next I was in denial and tried out an Irma in my actual size.  This time I was beyond bag lady. I'm talking sail boat proportions. It's a good thing I didn't step outside, because it was a windy day and I probably would have made it to New Mexico. Bag lady. Kite lady. Finally I tried again, but I went only one size down, to go for a legitimate tunic/dress type look.  Ladies. This is it.  Goldilocks freaking loves Irma tunics now.  

It has the perfect balance of flowy fabric, with the fitted sleeves. It doesn't hug under my arms like your average top, which means no sweat circles!! Say what?! I am a sweaty gal. I love this feature. And let's not forget the length! For some the idea of a booty in leggings is a sin, for me, I love but don't flaunt my baby apron, left over from having two kids in two years. The Irma is coverage. Rock those crazy leggings like you are still 16, but throw an Irma on top and you'll look as fab (and appropriate) as you feel.  

Coverage.

Bag-lady fashion potential.

Mom life.

But the Irma doesn't stop there. Like every piece of LuLaRoe you can up-style the life out of this top. Seriously, instead of ogling desserts you'll never bake on Pinterest, just look up the world of possibilities with Irma. Belts. Knots that look like roses. Cinching in the waist with a hair tie, for an ultra flattering look. Irma as a swim suit cover-up. All this, and no underarm sweat circles.

Go on. Get an Irma. 

 

To join my to-be boutique, have a chance at winning some LuLaGoodies, and follow along my LuLaRoe journey, join my group here: www.facebook.com/groups/LuLaRoeSerenaMcRae

To follow me in Instagram: @lularoeserenamcrae

Growth!

Six months ago my mornings were a mixture of depression and anxiety about the following day. If there was dishes in the sink I would literally cry through washing them, while my children screamed for breakfast. Some days I would forget to feed my children until lunch time, because I was too depressed to feed myself. I was malnourished. I was given doctor's orders to drink protein shakes even when I didn't think I could. I needed more than I was giving myself, but I thought more sleep, more peace and quiet was what would heal me.

I visited my sister, who is an early bird, and she had to wake me up every morning. She, as older sisters do, told me, "You don't need more sleep. That's not the answer. You need more activity. Get up early, set a schedule."  If someone else would have said this to me, I probably would have given them the, You-Don't-Know-What-You're-Talking-About-Because-You-Don't-Have-Children Speech.  But my sister is different.  As one of the strongest, most independent women I know, I was like, "... Okay."  

And I did. 

I went home and set my personal alarm to 7:00am. And the next morning I didn't snooze it. I made my kids breakfast. Nobody yelled at me. I didn't cry.  Did I take a nap with my kids that day? Heck yes I did!!! But this time, I deserved it.

This decision to change has snowballed, and it hasn't stopped.  My visit with my sister was just two months ago, and since then, I have walked three mornings a week at 8am, and my enthusiasm has gotten a friend to join me on those mornings, and is helping him battle his depression.  The other days of the week I get up and start my chores without delay. 

But that is not all.

I finally decided it was time to take charge of all of my habits. I joined Weight Watchers, and lost 8 pounds in my first month.  I am about to reach a weight I haven't seen for over two years.  I am planning meals, and buying more produce, and actually eating it before it goes bad!  And you know what?  I can take my kids out for ice cream, watch their joy and not feel sad.  I am finally balanced and happy, and claiming more healthy habits in my life!  And when I absolutely need some Super Nachos from Paco's, I budget it into my day, and I eat it, and I love it!

I decided I needed time for me, so I reached out, and found a job, photographing inventory for a LuLaRoe consultant.  One night a week, I get to chat with a lovely woman while doing work that makes my back hurt, and I get to think about exposure and white balance, while doing something that directly blesses someone else.  And then I take home my paycheck in clothes, drape them over my shrinking body, look in the mirror and love myself.

Today I got up at 7:15am, did a load of laundry, washed all the dishes and cleaned the counter tops, hung up the laundry to dry, walked two miles, sweated out an entire pound, showered and fed my kids all before 10:30am.  Six months ago I would have climbed out of bed at 10:30 in tears

And then I realized that I now have the confidence and the capability to run my own business, and to do it well. So I took the plunge and signed-up to sell LuLaRoe. I'm going to make money. I'm going to have something that is mine. I am going to help my family gain financial freedom.  And among these goals I am going to make it a top priority to help women see themselves in a new light.  I want to help women to transform their confidence and their lives the way that I have in these past months.  I want to help them love themselves, the way I have learned to love myself!

 

If you'd like to join me on my LuLaRoe journey, feel free to join my group! https://www.facebook.com/groups/1588650218132032/

Self-Love and LuLaRoe

Let me tell you a story!

I had my two babies very close together. By the time I was coming out of the babymoon of my second baby, I didn't have a single piece of clothing that fit right. Everything has been stretched to 41 weeks pregnancy size, and spit up on, and stained and I just wore these ratty old clothes and it made me feel like a martyr to the cause of motherhood. 

A year later, I had bought a couple of jean shorts and some new tee shirts, but nothing seemed to fit right after all my body had been through in the last two years. Then enter LuLaRoe! I was invited to a party on Facebook, and saw a maxi skirt that I would have rocked in highschool, but I felt like, as a martyr to motherhood, that I was destined to wear stained black and grey for the rest of my life. 

I got crazy for a minute; I bought the skirt.

 

And then I was suddenly enveloped in this incredible world of self-love.  These clothes were made for me! Who else refuses to buy yourself nice clothes because you want to reach a weight-loss goal first? That's what I was doing. Eyeing a $150 dress from mod cloth, that I could buy when I lost 60 pounds. It felt like punishment and torture.

Then I bought myself a $48 knit dress, with a full circle skirt, that was blue with red sunglasses all over it. It was BETTER than that mod cloth dress, and it was kind to my body. Suddenly, in the middle of my weight/loss journey, I had an adorable dress, that rocked my body, and felt good! I didn't have to fidget with it or be embarrassed. I posted a picture in my new dress on Facebook and found a community of women who lifted me up, and reciprocated to me that I am beautiful! 

I. Am. Beautiful.

 

A year later, now finding the most measurable success with Weight Watchers, I have signed up to become a fashion consultant to this company that has helped to lift me up. It has helped me to not plan to reward myself when I get there, but to reward myself now, while I am on the journey, doing my best! I deserve it! I deserve it for doing well, for being healthy, and for being and LOVING me!

Thank you LuLaRoe, and thank you Weight Watchers! 

And thank you to everyone who has supported me on this journey! Let's open the doors to self-love to as many women who want to come in!

Feel free to join me on my journey here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1588650218132032/

 

Why I Chose To Feed My Babies Formula

I have taken a very long time to sit down and write this.  In a recent attempt to express myself on Facebook, I got cold feet and deleted my status immediately.  About two minutes later, my phone buzzed, and I received an essay from a good friend, thanking me for speaking up, sharing her own traumatic experiences and her decisions that lead her to be swollen up with guilt, yet essentially saved her child's life. She urged me to tell my story when I felt ready, because she believed many other women needed to hear it, just as she did. 

So here it goes: 

Breast Is Not Always Best; Why I Chose To Feed My Babies Formula

From the first day I found out I was pregnant with my first child, my phone was ringing off the hook with insurance interviews, surveys, doctor surveys, parenting surveys and the like. My web browser and email flooded with options to complete a survey for free samples, and then I had ongoing interviews with each check-up with my OB, and eventually my pediatrician.  One of the main questions I was always asked was, "Formula or breast-feeding?"  Proudly, I would hold my head high and brag, "I plan to breastfeed exclusively."  It just made sense.  And it's free.  It's what my body was made for, and I believe more than many people I know that our beautiful bodies are incredible machines that can do incredible things, if we give them the chance.

I packed away all my free formula samples that flooded my mailbox.  I received baby bottles as gifts, and threw them down in a drawer and never took a second look at them.  I was creating life, and I was anxious to see what my body could accomplish next.  I spent hours on parenting and baby websites reading in-depth articles of child development, and understanding infant poop.  I did absolutely no research on breastfeeding, I just knew that my body could do anything.

When the day finally came, I was stocked up on nursing paraphernalia, and I headed off to the hospital already sporting my Motherhood nursing bra I specifically chose for labor and my first breastfeeding bonding time.  

A few hours later my baby girl was born, and I was attempting to feed her for the very first time.  Those first few hours are hazy in my memory, due to blood-loss, anemia and pain medications from a severe tear.  But I remember smiling ear to ear, and giggling as I helped nourish my dependent, precious little munchkin.  I knew we would be naturals at breastfeeding, and I would finally get to experience the breastfeeding high that so many women described.

Then enters the breastfeeding consultant.  A stout, grey-haired woman with a harsh voice, who immediately told me I was doing it wrong, and began laying her hands all over my precious peanut.  I was surprised at her abrasiveness, but was determined to do my best, so I did everything she said, and my stress level rose for the first time.  I became anxious that if I was doing it wrong, my baby would starve.  I became harsh to my husband every time the baby would cry, and he would take a second to stretch before delivering the baby to my hospital bed.  In my mind, in that second of hearing my baby cry, she was shriveling before my eyes, choking over her desperation for nutrition.  In that moment of hearing her cry I was the worst mother on the planet.

Of course all mothers have feelings of inadequacy, and are often overwhelmed with their new responsibilities.  It is a part of how our brains are wired.  The mess of hormones that runs through our bodies is determined to make our baby our number-one priority.  And I accepted this as fact, and continued to breastfeed my baby.  Within a couple of days, my husband began to worry as he would watch me become an emotional, sobbing mess every time the baby was hungry.  A few days later, I would anticipate the baby waking from her hunger, would experience let-down and would immediately crumble into a pitiful worm, begging release from my responsibilities.  

We argued about pulling the formula samples out of the bottom drawer and giving the baby a bottle.  My husband threw all my words, once spoken with pride, right back at me.  "Breast is best," he would say.  Eventually he would make the baby a bottle, settle down to feed her, and I would pretend to sleep, while my mind would race with self-defeated thoughts, "I'm a failure.  I'm a horrible mother.  I'm choosing to give my daughter a second-rate life.  She won't be as smart as her peers.  She's going to get sick more often.  All because I am not strong.  All because I am a weak failure."  And I would cry, silently, until everyone was back asleep.

Each time I gave my daughter a bottle, my determination to breastfeed would double.  Until I would experience let-down, then I would once again crumble into a wreck, twice as depressed as before.  A few weeks after my daughter's birth, I opened my weekly email to read about her development.  The opening statement was, "By this point you are probably breastfeeding your little one in your sleep!  Great job!"  I don't remember reading any further, because the frustrated tears in my eyes were once again affirming the fact that I was a horrible mother, who still couldn't get my infant to properly latch, and who couldn't feed her a drop without melting into an embarrassing display of self-pity.

Yet I continued to breastfeed.  By the end of the first month my husband was almost used to coming home to me with swollen eyes, deep, exhausted sobs, taking the baby away from me, and sending me to bed.  What he didn't know, until a short time ago, was that the majority of those tears were not due to the physical pain of breastfeeding, but to something else entirely.  We've all heard stories of people finding babies abandoned in dumpsters, and wonder, with furrowed brows, "How could anyone do that?"  Well, at a month post-partum, I found myself empathizing with the mothers in those stories.  I could actually picture myself leaving my baby, alone, in a dumpster.  I had flashes of images , leaving my precious child alone somewhere, and walking away for good.  And it terrified me.  I would clutch her as tightly as I possibly could, and I would sob until she was finished eating, my husband would whisk her away, and I could finally relax.  I loved her when she was not in my arms.  Guilt filled my soul.

At the end of her first four weeks of life, I told my husband, "I am of no use to anyone like this.  Every time I breastfeed, I just can't handle life.  How can I nurture our daughter if I can't even function?"  And he went strait out, and bought our first can of formula, and a breast pump.  I began pumping faithfully, and every single time I did, my self-esteem would plummet.  Self-depreciating thoughts filled me, but when my daughter was safely in her crib, I could put on a movie, and ignore my emotions.  I watched a lot of movies.  The more that I pumped, the less and less milk I would produce.  It could have been a reaction to my prescribed birth control, but I truly believe that I willed my milk to dry up.  As I said previously, I believe our bodies can do incredible things.  And I do believe that my body understood before I did, the mental destruction that occurs when I experience let-down and express milk.

I will never forget the first bottle that my daughter quickly devoured.  The peace that I felt while watching her get the nourishment that she needed.  My mind was clear.  Finally, I was able to feel the emotional reward that new moms always describe.  For the first time in her little life, I was able to love my daughter.  

Our relationship finally began to flourish.  Oh, how I loved that baby!  We went on walks to the park, would lay on a blanket by the pond early in the morning and I would fall in love with her more and more every time she gave me that satisfied look of true happiness and trust.

I continued to beat myself up about not being able to handle breastfeeding.  I made excuses about why I couldn't do it.  I told everyone it was my OB's fault for giving me a bad birth control pill.  It was easier to lay blame on someone else, than to admit that for some reason I can not mentally handle the act of breastfeeding.  I played the victim.  And I would never feed my baby a bottle in public, because in my eyes, every single look was a look of ridicule.  Even though I knew in my heart that I was giving my baby the best that I could give, I felt as if I was cheating her out of what she deserved.

Months later, I read a Facebook post from a breastfeeding advocacy page, about a woman who experienced extreme depression with let-down.  I read her story, and everything she said was exactly my story.  This woman had sought out doctors and professionals all around the nation in her desire to continue breastfeeding her child.  They concluded that in a rare amount of women, during the experience of let-down, there is a complete blockage of dopamine to the brain.  No dopamine = severe depression.  Finally, I was given validation.  I might be rare, but I am not just a weakling.  The woman I read about chose to be safely medicated, so that she could continue breastfeeding, but I was so far gone, I had no desire to go back.  I loved my formula, my daughter loved her bottles.

Fastforward to the birth of my second daughter.  Two years later, and I hadn't ever shared my story.  In the discussion to breastfeed, my husband and I had agreed to give breastfeeding a shot, but if it proved an emotional burden, that it was no longer do-or-die.  I breastfed my newborn for her first week, in which I would, once again, crumble to pieces every time let-down reared it's ugly head.  I decided to attempt to pump, and after a week of crying through every pumping session, I reached the point that I couldn't physically raise the flange to my breast.  

That very day my husband told me, "You are an incredible mom, you have revelation for our children, and I trust you completely."  He went strait to the store for a can of formula without a second thought.  It was that very day that I decided I am a proud formula mom.  I am grateful every single day that I live in a time where formula is readily available.  I no longer hide in the car or the nursing room to bottle-feed my baby.  I love that she can hold her own bottle while I stretch in the morning.  I love that her big sister will fetch her bottle for her when it falls from the high-chair.  And as for all those statistics which prove that formula-fed children get sick more often, or don't develop as quickly, my toddler has beat every single one of them.  She is just as bright and clever as all of her friends, no matter what or how any of them were fed.  

Both of my daughters are bright, clever, curious, active, inquisitive children, who are equal to their peers in every way.  I thought I was giving them a secondary life when I chose to formula feed them, but the truth is that I gave them the best life possible.  I chose a life for them with a healthy, happy mother.  I chose to love them more than I loved the ideals of how I planned to raise them.  I chose what was best for our family.  Breastmilk might be one of nature's greatest accomplishments, but by no means should any woman degrade herself under the premise that "breast is best."  With deep consideration, every mother has the power to truly understand what is the best for their own family.  No one should tell you different.