Loosey goosey tops. Ones that look cute, almost dressy, but don’t cling to my body in 90 degree heat or after lunch burritos. Can I get an amen?

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Dressy flats. Because I’m fairly certain my heel days are o-v-e-r.

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Pants that fit properly. Let’s get real – finding a button shaped impression on your belly at the end of the day doesn’t make anybody feel good.

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Birks. Hallelujah. Few things make my feet as happy as a pair of broken in Birks.

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T-shirts. Ones so soft people like to pet them.

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T-shirts. Ones that come home that soft from the store, because the years it takes to break in a t-shirt usually also bring holes.

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Wick sweating baseball hats. Where have these been all my life? A hat that protects my hair (sun and color do not mix) but doesn’t make me feel like I’m about to pass out? Yes, please.

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The “lounge bra.” I can’t say I love bras as a concept so this one saved me. Even on those semi-public mornings when running around being all booby free isn’t the best idea – you know, like when other people’s kids sleep over and such – I still cry at the idea of wearing a real bra. Voila! Enter the lounge bra. Think t-shirt for your boobs and you’ve got the gist.