Shopping in My Pajamas

As I hop from blog to blog, I frequently run into people whose lives are completely different from mine.  People who value different things and focus their energies in other areas.  For the most part, I enjoy this.  I like learning about other people and seeing a way of life that differs from mine. 

But every now and then I run across someone who irritates me.  Not because she is different, but because she is superior, snotty, and judgmental of those who are different from her.  In her world, she is right and anyone who sees things in any other way is wrong and stupid and doesn't deserve the good things in life.

This happened recently.  Through a blogging community, I found myself at the blog of a woman with whom I am fairly certain I have almost nothing in common.  We are both women.  We both live on the planet earth.  I'm guessing we both breathe oxygen.  I'm pretty sure that's where our similarities end.

She is single, lives in London, and focuses much of her attention on fashion.  And I offend her.

I know I offend her because she said so.  In the post that bugged me she said that anyone who shops in their pajamas offends her.  She said that I had no business in the grocery store in my pajamas.  That there is no excuse, no matter how tired or lazy I am.  She said shopping in my pajamas is a statement about my low self-esteem.  She then proceeded to tell me the proper way to go to the grocery store.  The GROCERY store!  Seriously?

I understand that this post was meant to be comedic.  She was going for snarky/funny.  And from the comments on her blog it looks like her audience liked it.

I found it ridiculous.

If we are going to ban people from coming to the grocery store dressed offensively then I have a few things to add:  ultra-short shorts (the kind that barely cover their cheeks); wife-beater shirts; intense cleavage; and any clothing that is so tight or revealing as to be inappropriate for public viewing (since I am making the rules, I get to decide what is inappropriate).

From now on we will all shop in uniforms.  All pants/skirts must reach the knee.  All necklines must reach the collar bone all the way around.  Your clothes must be loose enough that you can easily put them on even when you are wet.  And I want them to all be olive green.  That way, people won't clash as they walk past each other -- because that offends me.

What an incredibly lucky young woman the author of said post is.  Her life must be flowing along smoothly and without any major problems if she has time and energy to worry about this.  She must be generally healthy and have plenty of money.  And thank heavens she decided to make sure we know what is and is not appropriate to wear to the grocery store.

I guess she has never run to the store in a hurry to try to get there before it closed because her child came down with a fever and she needed medication (after she'd gone to bed).  I guess she was never told at 10:45pm that her child had a project due the next day that would make or break his grade so she decided to sacrifice her sleep to run to the store to get what he needed and stay up all night helping.  I guess she has never been so ill she didn't know how she would make it to work and had to run to the store for anti-diarrhea medication so that she didn't get fired for missing work.

And besides all this, I guess she is so worried about what other people think of her that she feels she must put on a show every time she steps out of her house.  Some of us are actually self-confident enough to be seen in whatever we happen to be wearing without caring if the people around us approve.

I sometimes shop in my pajamas.  Sometimes because it takes every last bit of energy I have to get to the store so my family has milk.  Sometimes to get a treat for my daughter who had a difficult day.  And sometimes just because I am comfortable in my pajamas.

When I mentioned this to my friend, she pointed out that when super models are trying not to be noticed they walk around without makeup on and in sloppy clothes.  (I guess that's because they're so insecure, right?)

So I would say to the author of that post, next time you see a woman shopping in her pajamas just pretend she is a super model in hiding.  Maybe that way she won't be so offensive to you.

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No question, this was a full-on rant.  I was not proud of how I handled myself and addressed it soon after in A Difference of Opinion.

Nectar of the Gods

Ever have one of those days?  A day when everything goes wrong?  When everyone hates you?  A day that seems to be neverending?

It's finally over.  You've made it home, to your refuge.  Your haven.  Your day has been horrible, but you've done your time and now you get to relax.

You go to the fridge and see that lovely bottle.  Just holding it in your hand eases the tension.  It's cool; it will bring relief.

You twist the top and hear that sound.  The sound that promises to quench a thirst deeper than physical.  That promises to drown the day's sorrows.

So you take a swallow.  That first precious swallow that tastes better than anything humans have a right to enjoy.  That swig that burns all the way down.  Followed by a sigh of relief.  You have just partaken of the nectar of the gods.

Diet Coke.

And life is good again.  You're going to make it through the night.  All is right with the world.

*ahhh*

Dressing for my Moods

It seems like my mood determines my life.  Like it is something out of my control that pushes all the buttons.  Like my moods are the man behind the curtain.

I do not believe that my moods are in charge.  I believe I have the power to change them, to subdue them.  Sometimes.

My moods are like an ever changing beast.  A metamorph that can change into any shape at will.  And can do so instantly.

And when there is a beast in your life your options are limited.  Fight it.  Find a middle ground.  Be devoured.  I vacillate among these three.

One of the ways this is evident in my life is in the way I dress.

When I am feeling strong I can fight.  I am willing to spend extra energy to win the battle.  I go the extra mile.  I shower.  I do my hair.  And I pick clothes that make me feel like I can tackle the world.  Usually it helps.  Sometimes the beast and I both know I'm fooling myself and it's not long before I'm craving my pajama pants.

On those days when I'm willing to compromise with the beast, things are a little different.  I don't shower, but I do brush my teeth.  I don't curl my hair, but I do brush it.  I don't dress up, but I do get dressed.

Then there are the devour days.  The days when I'm just out of bed long enough to give someone a ride or go to the bathroom.  No effort at hygiene.  I don't change out of whatever I fell asleep in.  And because I look so horrible, I avoid people as if I were contagious.

But a funny thing can happen on those devour days.  There's power in staying in my pajamas or my worn out flannel shirt.  The power that says the beast may be setting the agenda, but I still choose the wardrobe.  And I choose to wrap myself in comfort.  I choose clothes that serve as a hug for myself.

And that little bit of defiance keeps the beast from swallowing me.  Until I can claw my way out of its gullet and back out into the sunshine.

Coffee Talk

I have a deficiency.  A need, if you will.  I need a neighborhood coffee shop.

Okay, not really a coffee shop.  I don't actually drink coffee.  But I need something like it.  I need a place where I can go and just be.  Alone, with a friend, or with a group of friends.  A place to just be.  Neutral territory.  No time limit and no tasks to complete.  A place to think or to visit.  A place to share or to plan.

I imagine that there are a few places like this around.  But I have not found them.  I have tried many to see if they fit.  Some are okay, others a wreck.  Not one of them is just right.

Finding a place to ponder alone is generally a little easier, especially in good weather.  A park.  The mountains.  The library.  The museum.  My car.

A place for visiting with friends is a little more difficult.  Again, good weather opens up more opportunities.  And if you want to share a meal, there are many choices.  But what if you just want to share each other's company?  A small snack or drink and lots of conversation.  How do you do that?

There's something to be said for meeting somewhere.  Out.  Not at each other's houses or the local Hogi Yogi.  Somewhere with atmosphere.  Somewhere relaxing.  Somewhere comfortable.

And then once I find the place, I have to convince others of the value of taking time doing nothing.  Just being together.  Sharing a space.  Experiencing each other's thoughts and feelings.

But I guess I'd better stick to one thing at a time.  On with the hunt!