No to stripes and plaid; together that is

English: capri pants 1960. Deutsch: Caprihose ...

English: capri pants 1960. Deutsch: Caprihose von 1960. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Have I ever said I love my forties!  Oh, I have?  Many times?  Well, excuse me for repeating myself.  I think repeating myself is coming right around the corner too so I might has well have a little practice.

I cannot help but ponder all the things that used to vex me daily.  Mostly about how I was perceived and how I looked.  It’s always been the little things that get me.  I would call myself a perfectionist in some areas, but then not at all in others.  And, I’m not over all of my little idiosyncrasies by any means, but I find myself happier and more at peace with myself every day.  Oh, the absurdities I’ve allowed to plague me!

Just today, I was telling a friend how that I’ve always had to match, even with sleepwear.  I’m not one of those people who can run around the house with stripes and plaid on.  Now, I’m not saying this is the way to be, but it is what it is at this point.  In high school, when the Gloria Vanderbilt, Jordache and Sasson (I am really dating myself here) jeans were in style, my shirts had to match the thread on the jeans.  I have harassed girlfriends when they wore white shoes in the winter; which is not a fashion faux pas anymore, by the way.  The fact that my toenail polished is chipped has often caused me to wear closed toed shoes in the heat of a blistering Florida summer.

Like I keep saying though, things they are a changing.  This morning I had on a below the knee nightshirt and this FL girl was cold in this frigid 53 degree weather.  Let’s take a moment until the laughter from our northern friends dies down.  So, I decided to add a pair of sweats, but all I could find was Capri length.  Then I realized my feet were the coldest thing on my body so I was strolling by my daughter’s room and caught a glimpse of her ankle high leopard print slipper/booties.  I’m really not sure what they are.  She wears them out of the house; I would not.  I slipped them on.

So, I walk by the mirror and had to laugh.  I looked ridiculous.  But no one knew (until now of course).  This admission, sharing it with all of you is success in itself as far as I’m concerned.  Don’t get me wrong, if someone would have knocked on my door, a mad dash for the closet would have ensued.

Maybe I will end up being one of those little old ladies with a mismatched outfit and lipstick in the wrong shade feathering into the creases around her wrinkled old lips, and a winter shoe with a summer outfit.  But, you know what?  Who cares, as long as I’m happy? J

Mitch Teemley

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