At the time it didn’t strike me as a milestone event; I was re-organizing my closet. My business casual day to day attire was slacks, jacket, and a blouse. Dresses hung waiting for a special occasion that rarely occurred.
The dresses, pushed to the recesses of the closet, dated and depressing ended up in the “donate” stack. A review of the skirts proved to be the same and they joined the dresses. I looked forward to a gangbusters shopping binge for skirts and a basic black dress.
After a couple of shopping expeditions, it became clear my body had staged a rebellion.
Dresses were either way “too cute” or belonged in an Amish sewing circle. The other issue was, beneath the hem of a dress, my legs were meh; calves passed muster, but ankles resembled Sequoia trunks.
Shoes that were still hip looked great peeping out from beneath lady trousers, but paired with the dresses they looked dreadful. It had the same effect as throwing plastic slipcovers over a beautiful sofa. It was a freeing moment. I realized I did not need or want a dress.
I wish my seven-year-old self could have peered into the future to see this moment; she would have rejoiced. As a tot, I loved girly girl dresses, but at about age seven I had an epiphany about dresses.
Girls could not wear slacks to school unless the temperature was subzero. The slacks only allowed under a dress and removed once you reached the classroom. That was too much trouble, so most of the time your tush remained frozen for the day.
The other nonsensical rule was, during recess girls could not turn flips on the monkey bars as we would expose our undies. One covert flip and a teacher appeared to snatch you off the playground.
That insane rule may have inspired the burn your bra movement; the mother of the #MeToo Movement.
Today, I remain dress-less and skirtless. I do not own a caftan, sarong or any other garment that I could wear in a last-minute pinch.
Should I find myself in a situation that calls for a dress/skirt, I’ll channel my seven-year-old self, and in her honor, thumb my nose and wear slacks.
Categories: Biased, Unbalanced and Politically Incorrect
I am a lifelong Southerner, short story author, and essayist. Home is Dallas, Texas.
My essays have appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, The Dead Mule School of Southern Writing.