It is so hot that I am wearing a tank top which is slightly too small and softball shorts, and fully intend to go into the city dressed like this, with my hair soaking wet. I am wearing the tank top because it is the only one I own with a built-in bra, thereby eliminating an entire article of clothing, and I am wearing the softball shorts because they are kind of big and only touch my skin at the waistband. Also they breathe.
(if you are wondering whether I cropped a pile of
clothes on the floor out of this picture, the answer is yes.
also, my hair is now in a ponytail to get it off my neck.)
When I was a kid, my dad said we were not allowed to wear sweatpants out of the house, even for a minute, even just to the store. We were DEFINITELY not allowed to go running around in our pajama pants, like all of my friends did. When I asked my dad why, he said it was because you look like you have given up on life. I didn't really understand that until I went to college, and promptly discarded these rules. Sweatpants were for early classes (meaning anything before 12:40 pm) or any time I was hung over, and pajamas were for REALLY early classes (anything before 11 am) and any time I was REALLY hung over (not that often, because in those instances I usually was not leaving the house anyway).
Now that I am (kind of) a grown up, I find that I have reverted to my dad's rules, and this time actually understand what he means. When I look back at the college sweatpants-wearing days, there were the days I felt like crap. Wearing the sweatpants might feel better at first, but after an hour or so you just feel like the day never started or something. And really jeans are not all that uncomfortable. Or even a skirt. In fact, what I like about skirts is that you kind of feel like you are not wearing pants at all -- I guess because technically you are not.
Anyway, the point is that I just kind of feel better if I actually get myself up and dressed, and try to look one step above "just rolled out of bed." I also find that if I put in even a modicum of effort, Kathy tells me how great I look, and it's always nice to feel like your person thinks you're hot.
But for crying out loud, people, it's like 96 degrees or something crazy like that today, and we are diligently not running the air conditioner around here. Not to mention that I have to take the subway today (gross). Sometimes, even well thought-out rules have to be broken! So if you see me walking around Chelsea in softball shorts and an ill-fitting tanktop, try not to judge me too harshly. Normally, I would not go out of the house like this.