Over the years, the image of yourself as pefect is constantly under assault. And sometimes you just have to give in. Despite what I thought were reasonable efforts to portray myself as otherwise, I might actually be cheap, self-righteous and not skilled in personal hygiene.
Yesterday, I told Julie over the phone that "I stole a shirt" from her. In this enterprise of one Owen in two houses (but MOSTLY in Julie's house, people! MOSTLY in Julie's house!!), tracking his dress-code-appropriate clothing can be maddening. So I might wash the one he wore Thurs and put it on him Friday, hope Friday's a dress-down day or, rarely, take an extra shirt from Julie's house.
But in this brief conversation, it became clear that Julie thought I had stolen one of her blouses and that I might be planning to wear it to work.
3 comments:
Might I note that you have, in the past, worn my women's shoes to surgery. So this did not seem entirely unreasonable a thought.
True. But I finally did go out and buy some more masculine black clogs of my own.
And what did that get me??
Owen's classmate, a six-year-old child, asked me Monday, "Why you wearin' ladies shoes?"
BTW, I don't know where you got the photo of a "blouse" but it is a pretty good approximation of my style.
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