I actually paused to take this photo the other day when I passed by a mirror and saw how insane I looked.

I’ve never been what anyone would describe as fashionable.  I simply don’t care about what’s ‘in’–I dress the way I want to dress, in a way that makes me both happy and comfortable and put-together-looking.  Or, rather, I dressed that way.  Past tense.

My current style can be described in two words–avoid nakedness.  That’s sincerely my only goal.  Oh and perhaps prevent frostbite.  You see, it’s getting to be fully winter now.  In fact, there’s snow in the forecast for tonight.  But weather doesn’t really effect me all that much anymore, seeing as how I now work from home (and by ‘work’ I mean ‘write for no money.’)  The only time I need to care about warmth is when I leave the house to, say, go buy more wine.  Or toilet paper. Or…no, wait, there’s no third ‘or’.  I only leave the house if I need wine or toilet paper.

So when I do eventually leave the house, I simply pile on enough layers to maintain an appropriate core temperature.  And by ‘layers’ I mean ‘sweaters from years past that are both worn out and too small.’  That’s how I end up looking like the photo included in this post.  The ensemble I’m wearing in this photo includes a bright pink and purple top with a dark blue and black sweater over top, a pair of green cargo pants, and old stained Emu boots.  Oh–and I’m rockin’ the pigtails, too.

Which brings me to my next point–my hair.  I never understood why people with longer hair would choose to wear it back.  After all, if I wanted short hair, I’d just cut it, not pull it back all the time.  But the thing about long hair–or at least my medium length hair–is that it doesn’t look very nice unless you put effort (and, often, money) into it.  Thus the balding Pocahontas look.

These days, as I’m walking toward the bookstore with my laptop under my arm I often catch a glimpse of myself reflected in the glass store windows.  As my feet smush down the sidewalk in my fuzzy, stained boots and the loose threads from my sweater wave in the breeze, I remember how I used to feel walking into that same bookstore.  Pointed, heeled boots clicking on the sidewalk, winter coat buttoned up, scarf draped attractively across my shoulders.  Hair styled, Coach bag swinging from my arm, bracelets jangling.  I think I even had better posture back then.  Ah yes, taking a year off from work is so glamorous, isn’t it?