Fashion Expert

My daughter wants to be a fashion designer. She loves buying clothes, wearing clothes, accessorizing her clothes. I support her a thousand percent. I just don't know where she got her love of fashion, because it's not in my DNA. For most of my life I just wore anything comfortable, no matter how ill-fitting and unflattering. I'm still a jeans-and-t-shirt gal 99% of the time (although living in a cold climate, those t-shirts are usually covered by a sweater, a hoodie, and a coat), and sometimes I wonder if I embarrass her. She has tried to tell me before that I need new clothes, so it's a sound theory that I do.
Right now I am working toward fitting back into my cute shorts. I just bought them last summer, when I could fit into single-digit-sized pants. The last few months haven't gone so smoothly, weight wise. My willpower hovers between non existent and I-wish-I-was-pregnant-only-so-I-could-justify-this-binge-right-now. The end of one meal is just the beginning of a countdown to the next (yeah...it doesn't sound healthy to me, either). In the meantime, shop for fitting shorts I must!
Clothes shopping is always a challenge. I'm petite but not skinny, so when confronted with my body type, designers - well scratch that, I don't think clothing designers have ever been confronted with my body type. I picture Vera Wang with her sketchpad, being presented with my measurements, and the room quickly filling up with smoke as her brain overheats trying to process how to flatter my frame using only fabrics which have already been invented. "Five foot one? But not a size 0? How..." an assistant quickly hands her a paper bag to breathe into, "And full-busted? It's not possible! It's against the laws of nature, physics, and Chanel!" 
This is probably completely unfair of me, picking on Vera Wang, about whom I know nothing except her name and the fact that she designs clothing - oh, and has guest-judged on Project Runway. Still, you don't see me in any of her dresses, do ya? Well, no, you're right, I really don't wear dresses if I can help it. Right again, I don't really have the money for designer- WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON?!
Getting back to my original point, before I pissed off Vera Wang (that is, if either of you reading this are friends with Vera Wang) - clothes tend not to fit me correctly. I happy dance in the fitting room whenever a pair of jeans labeled "petite" isn't too long. I then have to try not to pee those pants if they are also a single digit in size. Shirts...well, are another matter. I have to buy up in size due to my (ahem) chest circumference, then they're too long and/or become shapeless on my frame. When that doesn't happen, you guessed it, more happy dancing. Stacy London and Clinton Kelly tell nearly all of their makeoverees that clothes can be tailored, which may be something the experts have time to do, but in my experience it's just easier to whine about clothes not fitting straight off the hanger. Know which clothes tend to always fit correctly off the hanger? Jeans and T-shirts. Fashion Expert: No. Comfortably dressed: H-E-double-hockey-sticks Yeah.

Feng Shui Consultant

Husband and I whisked ourselves out of town (30 whole minutes from the house!) for our anniversary this year. We talk about it every year, this is one of only two years we've done it. Another thing we often talk about is building our dream home. I've sketched floor plans, he's tried to talk me into purchasing expensive software so he can show me his ideas - in 3D! I have a basic idea of what I want at this point. I'm not sure houses don't already exist with all the features I want, so I've kept my mind open to pre-owned houses as well. Not to mention my love for quirky old homes in our city's oldest district. We even owned one when we first got married, but the repairs outgrew our budget, and we had to sell it. So when I saw that the B&B where we stayed was an 1892 Victorian with a turret, I was in love. When I discovered that part of our room was in the turret, I squealed like a tween with delight. It wasn't just part of our room, it was behind a wall, the low-roofed hall access like a secret passage. And within the turret: a reading niche, with chairs and lamps. Utopia.
Naturally, I concluded that my quirky house MUST have a turret. The turret must be in my bedroom and contain a reader's recluse, just like this one. So I began sketching. And abandoning, and sketching anew. Repeat. I couldn't seem to grasp how the design would work in real life. I even found myself abandoning the house sketch I've had in mind for months to get the turret to work. This will be where I read my novels, read my magazines, play sudoku, write poetry, update my blog, hide from the kids! I tried to sleep. I couldn't. It had to work!
Eventually I concluded that the turret would have to be only upstairs; I couldn't find a use for it downstairs. Is that possible? I have no idea. But that's what I want. I don't care if it's unreasonable or even unfeasible. I want a round room sanctuary. Why round? For the awesomeness. I have no doubt a feng shui consultant would say the same thing.