Dull and Worn

I am often guilty of wearing a rather dull ensemble and rationalizing the hell out of it to myself. I think to myself, for instance, I’m only going to Montessori and the grocery store today, and I may have to kneel down in a playground or ride my bike, so I can’t wear any of my nice shirts. And I can’t wear heels because it might rain. And I can’t wear any snug-fitting skirts or pants because I might have to sit down for a long time and won’t be comfortable.

Or I think, It may come to pass that I have to hold a baby today, and that baby might drool or vomit, so I can’t wear anything light-colored or silken or dry clean only.

And thus it comes to pass that my closet is full of nice things that I never wear, and my dullest, most faded and frayed, most shapeless things are worn often: worn so often, in fact, that they are quite worn.

One of the worst things about this phenomenon is that the whole day I am wearing my supposedly practical and comfortable outfit I feel terrible about how I look and every time I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror I think oh why did I wear this dull ensemble, this stretched-out shirt, this stupid skirt that’s exactly the wrong length?