I woke up one day and none of the clothes in my closet were mine. I’m not making this up.
Okay, maybe I am, but that’s the way it felt. I tried on 90% of my closet, and nothing seemed to fit – neither my body or my personality.
Over the next several days I bought and returned dozens of items. A geometric print maxi-dress seemed fine in the store. Maybe a bit “young” for me, but I was sure I could still pull it off. And then I got it home, where I realized that, NO, I couldn’t pull it off and back to the store it went.
I’ve done this time and time again. I’m in some sort of Limbo (the Catholic kind, not the game) where I’m too old for average women clothes and too young for old women clothes.
Last week, I hit bottom. I gathered all my strength and walked into what I’ve always considered The Old Woman Clothing Store. As I flipped through the racks of shapeless dresses and baggy capris, I had a running conversation with myself.
“I’m too young to wear these clothes!”
“No you’re not. Look around at the other women here. They’re not much older than you.”
“I don’t belong here”
“You do belong here.”
“Fine! I’ll try something on!!!”
I picked several items off the racks and trudged to the dressing room. Just as I was stepping into my first outfit, hoping to god I wouldn’t look in the mirror and see my grandmother, I overheard this conversation in the store, right outside my dressing room door.
Salesclerk: “Here we go. I’ve put you in the largest dressing room – where they’ll be plenty of room for your walker.”
Customer: “Why, thank you dear.”
I ran out of that store so quickly I almost broke a hip.
Bonus Blog Post
While I was working on the blog post above, this email conversation occurred with one of my brothers. Caution – I’m leaving in the strong language. I know, can you believe it?
Mike: So FYI, I am officially a middle aged woman trapped in a man’s body. In addition to frozen shoulder, it appears I now have varicose veins. I found two cysts in my calf this weekend and went to get them checked. The doctor is 99% sure that’s what it is. I have to get a sonogram to confirm. Did mom have that? Fuck! Getting old sucks!
Teresa: Well, yes she did, as do I. But I didn’t think it was worth a dr. appt. What will they do about them? Are they dangerous or something? FUCK YES, I hate getting old.
Mike: He did not seemed concerned at all and what I can find online seems to say the same thing. I think there are some cosmetic procedures to make them look better, but I will probably pass because looking good in heels is down on my list of worries.
Enjoy your Fourth of July. Here are the Crazie Town safety rules from last year, just in case you need them.
I think you could rock a geo print dress & you’d look killer in a 3/4 sleeve wrap dress.
Ah, now you have me dreaming of the perfect 3/4 sleeve, geo print, wrap dress. I would look killer! Thanks.
I’ve got a suggestion, Crazie Teresa. I’m borrowing an idea from another part of life. I say, go to the clothing store accompanied by a clothing critique group (CCG). Any irrational ideas you have about what you look good in, will be summarily shot down by members of the group. Geometric print maxi-dresses will be the first baby to bite the dust. Do not allow your husband to be in this group!
My consulting invoice is in the mail.
I like the CCG idea however, I don’t like enough to pay for it.
I thought I’d finally “made it”, shopping in the grown up woman store with big dressing rooms, now I find out that’s to accommodate WALKERS?!? Now I’M in Limbo.
At least we know we’ll be able to painfully shop well into our old age.
Now what? You’ll be much more uncomfortable without any clothes to wear than clothes that make you appear either too young or two old. I think jeans and sweatshirts are the way to go. I’ve adopted that outfit for all occasions myself.
Tell Mike that varicose veins are a problem for men. My mother had lots of them and now they are eveloping in my legs. And I never wore high heels…well, for very long at a time.
It’s the curse of a woman’s life (at least this woman’s life) that I need to look good in order to feel good. I know, I know. If I felt good, I’d look good. That’s my current Catch 22.