State of My Wardrobe Address
by juli boggs
What was once a collection of items I truly enjoyed wearing now appears to be a bunch of unsightly second-hand rags that have taken up conference in my dresser. I’m hoping that it’s my perception that’s changed and that I didn’t actually always look like a wild, Hospice dumpster-diving fool, as my reflection now shows me to plainly be. I am wondering where all of my friends have been and why they did not tell me I had really fallen off the wagon. Probably they were too busy pointing and laughing at me to say anything.
I have a lot of sunglasses, none of which I really like. There is a pair of shiny blue aviators that I’m partial to but the lenses are too dark and scratched to be practical, giving me the demeanor of a young Ray Charles when I don them and thereby neatly negating any amount of sexy I hoped to gain by wearing them at all.
My poor attitude towards my wardrobe leads to me wear black leggings and a grey sweatshirt a lot, making me feel like a soccer mom running errands before school gets out and practice begins. To counteract this I lean heavily on an expensive black leather jacket I recently purchased, which shifts me to the opposite side of the fashion spectrum closer to “old man on the prowl.” When I am wearing this jacket older men often nod and smile knowingly as they pass.
Often for the sake of expediting my departure from the house I will not even look in the mirror knowing it will only discourage me, which is how I ended up at the gym yesterday wearing a pair of surfing rash guard-pants with my underwear so badly bunched up I appeared to be romping around in a full diaper. Realizing this early on and even then much too late, I had to rely almost entirely on denial to get through the rest of my routine, imagining that the many men and women continually pointing and guffawing in my direction were actually just impressed by my strength and good form and all agreed that I was a pretty good lookin’ babe.
I have recently been thinking about throwing away everything in my closet and starting from scratch, but I’m pretty sure I’ll just end up replacing it all with the same old crap in a slightly different shade of black. I have also been trying to realistically imagine myself in anything but jeans and tank tops, but cant. Dresses make me feel like a silly, dolled up housewife, ditto for skirts. There are always jumpsuits, but I have entirely abused these practical one-pieces over the last year and I know it. So I’m left with jeans and t-shirts. Which I’m already wearing.
Are bathrobes in? Maybe I can just swaddle myself in one of those and call it a terrycloth gown.