Yesterday morning, while attempting to dress for work, I changed my clothes three times. Have you ever had a day like that? Other than when you were a teenager, I mean. As an adult. Recently. Where nothing felt right, no combination worked, stuff just didn't fit...
Am I the only one?
*insert sound of crickets chirping*
FINE, maybe I am. Stop rolling your eyes already. But I’m going to tell you what I’m dealing with here because blogs are for sharing.
There’s a perfect storm of contributing factors to my wardrobe malaise. For starters, things just don’t fit like they used to. I’m inclined to attribute this to my advancing age (I was, after all, born in the ‘60s), but more likely, it’s due in equal parts to French fries and wine. Neither of which I’m inclined to forego. I need to dig out the warranty to see if "having my off switch recalibrated" is covered.
So, there’s my complete lack of willpower. Next, we have my disinclination to do anything that remotely resembles exercise. Oh sure, I’ll park in the far lot and walk to the Metro station, and I’ll help shovel feet of snow off of our driveway, but let’s just say that my treadmill is collecting plenty of dust these days. As are my sneakers.
Those things account for the fact that the things I own don’t fit. But they don’t account for the fact that apparently, I have bad taste.
Why didn’t you people tell me??
The last time I changed was literally right before I walked out the door. I was holding my coat, ready to put it on, and decided NO! I cannot wear this! I quickly changed my top to something I hoped would go better with the pants I was wearing. It was only later, in the office, as I changed into my work shoes that I discovered I'd forgotten to change my socks. So there I was at work, slipping my red-sock-clad feet into black clogs and hoping my pants would cover them so that no one asked me how come the red socks with the pink top?
As is my compulsion habit, I posted my quandary on Facebook.
A friend posted in response:
Like is it bad enough that I would snicker all bitchy like if I saw you on the street?
And I thought to myself no, no, you probably wouldn’t snicker all bitchy like. But you might have some other thoughts. You might be wondering, is this what happens to women on the far side of 40? The Frumpies?
Next, you might promise yourself that I Will Not Allow This Happen To Me. To that I say, Good luck and Godspeed to you, Sunshine.
But if you were sincerely full of care and concern for what is obviously a Very Big Problem?
You’d nominate me for What Not To Wear. I would totally subject myself to Stacey and Clinton’s ridicule in exchange for a two-day shopping spree and a $5,000 new wardrobe.
FIVE GRAND! I wouldn’t even know how to spend that kind of money on my clothes!
Obviously.
Shut up.
