No? Hmmm. Weird. I do.
|On 11-11-2001, the sweater was already 3 years old.|
The trouble is, I wore a uniform for 13 years of my life. The only thing I ever had to worry about were shoes and socks, and the occasional boxer shorts we'd wear to keep the boys from sneaking peeks when we walked up the stairs at school.
As an adult, the idea of having to wear something different every day, let alone go shopping for it, has caused more than its fair share of panic attacks. It's pathetic really. And being married to the guy that looks like he stepped out of the Brooks Brothers catalog every morning doesn't really help.
In DC, I had to dress up for work almost every day, so I had to take the bull by the horns and buy myself some nice—and current—clothing. I psyched myself up for a week and then one day at lunch, I stormed Banana Republic and made out like a bandit. After a while, I actually got used to mixing things up. I even bought a new pair of heels!
Then we moved back to Vermont.
It's really, really hard to get excited about fashion when your daily accessories include 30lb Sorel boots and a giant, black down jacket that makes you look like a charred Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. But I'm doing my best. As impractical as it is, I'm committed to pretending it's already spring and walking around in my cutesy ballerina flats (without socks!)
Now comes the hard part. Giving up the stuff I've been hoarding since college "just in case" in order to make room for the new goodies I've picked up since. I need to accept the fact that when it comes right down to it, there's only one thing any of us should remember about The Creek: JOEY PICKED PACEY!! And don't you forget it, Leary.