It hit me a minute ago as I closed myself into a university bathroom stall before class.
I hung my bushy-hooded coat up on the hook with my Jansport backpack and as I looked down I realized anew that I am frumpy.
It's been a creeping suspicion of mine for awhile, now.
I 'd like to think this development began with pregnancy, when my clothing options consisted of stretchy pants and t-shirts.
Yet honestly I can't say that was the beginning of my fashion degradation.
I recall a turning point being when I moved in with Gabe for the first time after we were married. We ran off to Chicago to get married over Spring Break at the beginning of March. When we returned, we both still were tied to an apartment lease for the remainder of the semester. Scratch the word "apartment," insert "room." We each had one room we were renting in different houses.
To make things simple, I moved into Gabe's room at his house. Which meant I just brought over my scriptures and enough clothes to fit into his middle dresser drawer. If I needed anything else I could walk the five minutes to my house. To my surprise, it was refreshingly easy working with no options. In the morning I wore one of two pairs of jeans and one of five t-shirts. Nothing fancy or complicated. Nothing that took any thinking or creativity. Just pure function. It was great. In addition to this, Gabe was not a good influence on me; to this day he only owns one good pair of jeans.
I have since justified my fashion attitude of straight practicality and comfort by my more aesthetically pleasing feminine characteristics, like long hair and a good shape.
I had no lack of confidence in my appearance. Heck, I love the look of a good t-shirt .
But now it's time for a change, I think. I find I 'm feeling quite plain lately. I remember when I felt hot the majority of my week, no matter what I wore. I liked having the control over my appearance potential. I knew I could pretty up real nice, but I just chose natural most of the time so as to have the power to switch it up every once in awhile, like for church. Then, the change would get more attention for the effort I'd put into my appearance. Why put in so much effort all the time for minimal appreciation? The worst would be for people to take for granted your hard-earned beauty.
However, I don't believe Gabe would ever do this. He tells me I'm hot and beautiful everyday all day.
I could be dressed in anything--or nothing--makeup or no makeup, hair nice or hair a psoriasis-infested mess. Doesn't matter, he always appreciates my looks both vocally and with kisses.
And he is the one I want to look good for.
Is this why my wardrobe has regressed?
Have I just gotten lazy?
Really, I think it's up to me. What I feel good wearing. What makes me feel pretty and IF I want to feel pretty.
What has spurred this post? With the gradual realization of my frumpiness, I am leaning toward a new haircut as a way to inspire some changes. I have it scheduled for tomorrow. I hope it goes well!
