Tuesday, September 29, 2009

The Rabbit Hole

Today, after yet another staffing agency interview, I didn't want to be anywhere near my gray, pinstriped pants. They, much like these pants, now had the stench of the desperation brought on by my unemployment all over them. After removing them, I stomped around the house looking for something to wear.

There was a time, not all that long ago, when I wore sweats. But now they make me feel sloppy. Even when I'm inside. By myself. With nothing to do for hours but write cover letters.

There was an autumnal chill on the air today, so I left the windows open wide before finally deciding to throw on an old, now oversized, oxford shirt and a pair of opaque black tights. After putting something together for lunch and settling in for an afternoon sitting by the window with my computer, I realized why people sometimes made the mistake of wearing tights as pants.

Tights are one of those items that are hard to fuck up. Though they can become uncomfortable at times, they are also slimming. Hiding lumps and bumps on your legs. Keeping secret the fact that the weather has made you far too lazy to deal with the hassle of shaving. Thighs that sometimes rub together in an uncomfortable way slip and slide past each other with ease. Your legs are warm, but you can still feel the wind. The chill only reaching the surface of the skin as opposed to penetrating to the bone.

When I decided it was time for a break, also known as some ice cream, I almost skipped to the kitchen. How comfortable I was. How free I felt. If I had thrown on one of my vintage 80s blazers (shoulder pads thankfully removed), I would have fit in most anywhere below 14th street and over the East River.

And that's when I realized that the ease of being that comfortable could make the next step of putting on some shoes and walking out of the house simple. One riding boot and then the next. A jaunt down the stairs. And suddenly all that stands between you and the crisp Boston air is a door.

I never made it to that point. I like my clothes to be comfortable. But I also like them to be actual clothes and not accessories masquerading as such. When I reminded myself of that, staying home and enjoying the air as it came through the window didn't seem all that bad.

No comments: