I was out on the street this morning, doing the daily 3-block walk I try to make myself do if it’s over 30 degrees out. Really 6 blocks, to Citarella, my 3-block landmark, and back. Sometimes I stop into Citarella even if I don’t need anything, because in the winter I need a reward for walking 3 blocks, and looking at food feels like a reward.
On the way there, I saw a guy, pretty normally dressed, walking and brushing his teeth. Right there on 6th Avenue. My thought was, “Who does that? And ps, you’re supposed to brush up and down not side to side!”
Then I went into O Cafe, the corner place where I buy my iced coffee. If I get there at a certain time, it’s always full of moms who just dropped off their kids at one of the 2 neighborhood schools no one can get into. Lots of them wear their drop-off uniform of sweater and yoga pants. And so as usual, I thought, “mommy clothes.”
But then when I left, I caught my reflection in the window, and remembered that I was wearing a puffy coat over drawstring sweats from the Gap that are a little too short, barely graze the top of my clogs, and reveal a glimpse of sock. Today’s socks were pink and red stripes.
And when I got back, I saw that last night’s eye makeup was smeared under my eyes like a raccoon mental patient. Right, not a sane raccoon, but one that yells obscenities on the street. Like eating from garbage cans isn’t crazy enough.
Also, one of my gray hairs was sticking straight up from the top of my head. One lone, old-person antenna.
Why do I go outside like this?
Because if I made myself get all nice before leaving the house, I wouldn’t leave the house. And if I never left the house, I’d get morbidly fat and need a washing stick to reach certain spots, and eventually my skin would get fused to the sofa cushions, and I’d need the fire department to get me off the sofa, because that’s what happens to people who don’t leave the house.
The point is, who am I to sniff at moms in Lulu Lemon, or a guy brushing his teeth on 6th Avenue? Good for all of them, they looked more put together than I did.
Do you work from home and spend most of your time in a “given up” outfit? Or do you bother to look nice, at least to leave the house? Gimme a comment, or I’ll eat your garbage. I’m a crazy raccoon.