I hate getting dressed. It’s no secret. I am just not good at it. Some people effortlessly drift into their closets and assemble outfits that suit both their bodies and the occasion. I can do neither.
My still post-partum, over 40 body has stumped me. It can’t seem to decide what it wants to be. One day I’ll look in the mirror and think, “I can live with this,” and later that same day it’s as if someone has switched my mirror out with one of those circus side-show models that morphs your body into a mass of wideness and awkward angles.
I’ll leave the house thinking that I look pretty good, and later catch myself in a store window and think, “Ugh”. That’s all. Just, “Ugh.”
Shopping is a nightmare. Time and time again I will leave a store confident that I have purchased wisely. I will be certain that the contents of my bag will look just as good on me at home as they did in the store. And time and time again I will come home and put those clothes on and take them off and put them on and take them off, wracked with so much doubt that they end up forever balled into a corner, tags still on. That whole Michael Kors zippered shirt fiasco has scarred me for life. Every time I watch “Project Runway” and I see his smirking mug, I want to shake him and tell him that it’s HIS fault I can’t get out of my yoga pants.
And then there’s this. I don’t know about you, but I’m sensing a pattern.
Do not adjust your computer screen. The mass of horizontal striping is just my wardrobe.
I have a horizontal stripe problem!! Clearly. It’s like I’m TRYING to make myself look larger than necessary. If I find myself in a store surrounded by solids, I will, without a doubt, find the one and only horizontally striped item in the place and scurry with it to the register like it is the last item of clothing on Earth. Look, there’s more….
Even the sheets on my bed are striped. It’s like I’m part zebra!
Is it any wonder that I can’t figure out what to wear? My closet is like one gigantic television test pattern.
What am I thinking? Stripes are for military personnel and tigers and barbershop poles…and prison uniforms. They are not for middle-aged women with rectangular builds.
I’d like to assert that I’m resolving to make 2011 the year of the of solids, but it’s kind of hard when ’11 itself kind of looks like 2 stripes.