(Holidailies entry #2)
There’s a woman here in the coffee shop who is wearing white cords and a white sweater. She is a young person, probably younger than I am. Is there a braver soul on the planet?*
I honestly haven’t worn even light jeans in two decades, well, because of fashion (slightly) and since an ‘I sat on something sharp’** incident in 1993 (thank goodness for grunge and layers and tieable-around-waists flannel shirts). And that was only noticed by, like, me and maybe one other person.
(Incidentally, ‘Uterine Calamities Notwithstanding’ would make a great band name.)
I also drop things in my lap a lot. And like sitting on grass. And have a dark-coloured cat. And have been known to dry my hands on my trousers. And am presently living in my slushy world of brown snow and puddle spray from cars. And don’t really care to get involved in the ‘pretreating’ thing or investing is specialised detergents; laundry is an afterthought, not a hobby to which I want to commit.
I’m a disgusting, slovenly mess in an imperfect world.
How do you have your life so in order that you can just wear white without a care in the world? WHITE TROUSERS LADY, I admire you.
But I kind of hope you accidentally kneel on a blueberry muffin.
** For those unfamiliar with the seminal Canadian tv show ‘Ready or Not’, this was an actual excuse used by a menarching Busy when she had an unfortunate situation while wearing a white band uniform (SERIOUSLY NO WHITE PANTS FOR TEENAGERS GAWD THEY DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE DOING.)