I’m Not Wearing Pants With Buttons Anymore
I think the greatest liberation in life is when you finally realize that nobody’s looking at you, nobody cares what you’re wearing, and you don’t have to go through life in pain and discomfort because of some arbitrary and ever-changing fashion standards set by people with impossible bodies.
I remember the first time I saw somebody wearing pajamas (complete with slippers) in public.
I was shocked. I was horrified. I was aghast.
But it was in an Aldi’s, so my standards were already set pretty low.
Since then, of course, I’ve seen people wearing pajamas in public approximately one billion times.
Pajamas have become the velour tracksuit of the masses.
I was raised with a Sunday-go-to-meeting mindset. You dressed up for certain things, but especially church and work. And at the very least, you wore what used to be called “street clothes” when you left the house.
Not pajama bottoms with teddy bears on them.
This just shows you how arbitrary the rules are that govern our daily existence with an iron fist.
I threw away all of my shoes with heels because my feet and knees have said nein and I’m having a hard time accepting that I can still wear all of my fun, flowy skirts (that get caught in the wheels of my office chair like Isadora Duncan’s scarf) with tennis shoes.
Does not compute.
But that just means that I’m willing and self-injuriously letting others suck the joy out of my life.
For example, I want to color my hair.
And the little voice inside says:
“You’re too old for that. You’ll look like an idiot. Sure, your boss wears skin-tight athletic wear to meet with clients which is not a good look on him — like, seriously, you should hand everybody dark glasses the second they walk through the door to obscure the view — but…