Several months ago my therapist and I were discussing my need to look pretty no matter what I’m doing. Not that I think I’m particularly pretty, but that I’m really not comfortable leaving the house without makup and a hair-do and proper pants. I do not understand people who think it’s appropriate to go to the grocery story in pajama bottoms and slippers, or to the restaurant (even if it’s just Azteca for quick Mexican) in gym shorts, or to the coffee shop in hot rollers. And the truth of the matter is, I’m not just embarrassed on behalf of these people, but I’m actually offended by them. I work hard to look appropriately presentable for each activity and it upsets me when they do not show me the same respect.
I’m getting better at this and much, I think, to Zach’s disappointment* often go out on the weekends now with big naturally curly hair and without eyeliner.
Today, however, my dad sent this:
And all the old feelings came rushing back. I’ve seen what people wear to Wal-Mart and if this woman thinks that’s getting dressed up, I shudder to think what she’s wearing to the Dollar Palace.
*Zach’s opinions expressed herein without written consent and, in fact, without even checking the truthiness of them.