I was watching Pickle, enconsed on the bed as she is every morning, and watching me shed my PJs and pull on my outfit du jour. What must she think about this process? How lovely it must be to have only one outfit to worry about. Actually, she always looks worried as she watches me. And I got to thinking about what vulnerable creatures we humans are to need layers of fabric to stave off the elements. And how vain we are to have so many fashions to choose from. I have often noted that fashion is a real racket. If you subscribe to it, your clothes are out of fashion even before you walk out of Bloomingdale's or Nordstom's. And so many fashions are geared to skinny littlewaifs with no breasts or hips. No one seems to be creating for big girls like me. So I keep my wardrobe down to basics. Kind of preppy for dressy events. Lots of waffle weaves for casual. Jeans. Lots of jeans. Cords, too. Sweaters, I love sweaters. Okay, I have a lot of clothes. This is a short life, and I don't like to worry about what I wear. And I don't like to wear the same thing twice, ever. Sad, isn't it. And Pickle only looks worried because she has these furrows in her brow, anyway. I am heading for the day when I can just throw on my sweats, and not worry about what anyone thinks of me. That makes a lot of sense to this old gal.
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