Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Decisions, Decisions

Pat commented on "life gets in the way" that she also has problems trying to decide what to wear.  I tell people (women, usually) if I was a girl, I'd be late to work every day, because I wouldn't be able to decide what to wear.  "Do I wear a pants or a skirt?  Skirt or a dress?  Long sleeves, short sleeves, 3/4 sleeves, cap sleeves, no sleeves, puffy sleeves, flared sleeves?  Which of the hundred of colours, patterns, materials?  Long skirt, mid calf skirt, short skirt, oh-my-god-she's-wearing-that skirt?"

But I wonder... if Meg went out every day, I'd probably have a better feel for what to wear.  I'd have some favourite outifts and some things I rarely wear but would, just to shake up the pattern.  I don't think it would be a real problem, after the first week, or fifth, or maybe fourteenth.

Part of the problem is, for the occasional dresser, it's like being told you can see one Broadway show ~ you think about all of the also-rans after you choose.

Before I went to dinner with Vanessa, I tried on two different blouses, rejected one as too casual without trying it, and I tried two different (black) skirts, and one dress ~ skipping two others I had pulled out but didn't think fit the occasion.

Imagine if it was a date!  I'd probably still be deciding.

1 comment:

  1. Selection of what to wear is often a pleasant dilemma. Making decisions of what to remove from the closet is difficult for me. I even have trouble discarding my male clothes. Typically with my guy stuff, at least most of it, I tend to wear it until it becomes worn and threadbare. My girl stuff never gets enough use to actually 'wear out'.

    Culling clothes is a sore spot with my wife. My girl stuff does intrude on limited space. She is also concerned that people may look in the closets and know that the large size clothes and shoes would not be hers.

    Before I came out enough to start hanging my wardrobe in the closet I had a few hidden stashes. The other day she stumbled across a stash hidden under the workbench in the garage. This was one of my first hiding places. When we spoke she commented that surely I did not need these clothes and they could be tossed. She had never seen me in these items so under the theory of tossing things that had not been worn in this century she had a point. The bag went right into the garbage can.

    The next day was garbage day. I did a quick trash dive and rescued an old denim skirt and tank top. I sadly waved goodbye to the other stuff. As I sit here now I really miss the two pair of heels that are now taking us space in the local garbage dump.


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