Sometimes, I just don't know what has become of me.
Black yoga pants and a black hooded long-sleeved shirt.
This is what I have been wearing about 4 out of 7 days a week.
And don't misunderstand. This is not an attractive outfit. It is simply...comfortable.
I find myself walking into the bathroom in the morning, seeing the same old yoga pants hanging over the towel bar from the day before and just thinking "I'll just put those on." Then I'll dig around for a bra and a top and I think "I'll just put that on." Because...they're there.
It's not always the exact same outfit (okay, maybe the word "outfit" is a bit too kind) every day. Sometimes I mix it up. A little. The tops vary slightly. I have two, extremely similar black hooded long-sleeved shirts. So similar, in fact, that I'm sure no one who sees me would realize that they are different shirts. Sometimes, depending on the weather, I'll wear a tank top underneath the shirt, or maybe a t-shirt. And my footwear varies between sneakers with no socks (socks are such an effort) and flip flops.
Yesterday, I actually took off the black yoga pants and black hooded long-sleeve shirt, washed them, and...put them back on.
It's starting to worry me.
I swear that I used to look cute. I used to make a real effort to look attractive. At one point, I had three sets of clothes.
- My clothes - cute skirts, funky tops, trendy sort of stuff with a bit of thrift store thrown in.
- Audition clothes - basically "casual mom". You know, khakis or capris, layered sweater sets, the stuff you see moms in commercials wear. These were clothes that I purchased specifically to be worn to auditions, and that's the only place I wore them.
- Housecleaning clothes - old sweats, baggy t-shirts. Stuff I wouldn't be caught dead wearing in public.
Then about 5 years ago, I had a disconcerting realization. The "audition clothes" had simply become "my clothes".
And now? The "housecleaning clothes" have become "my clothes".
Through her life, Mama had a series of outfits that Daddy referred to as her "uniform". In those days, women often would dress in their "good clothes" to run errands or go to the grocery store, then they'd come home and change into their "house clothes". When I was really little, she wore house dresses, then later on she evolved into the stretchy polyester pants look.
For one, rather lengthy period of time, Mama had a particularly heinous "uniform", a shapeless dress made of thick, brown fabric, which zipped up the front. Daddy HATED it. He said she looked like she was wearing a burlap sack. Finally, after months of being forced to look at this dreadful thing, he rebelled, carried the dress outside, and ceremonially burned it in a metal trash can.
Maybe I should do that with the black yoga pants.
But then...they're so comfy.