I dutifully mended and ironed and set aside 10 items for donation in an effort to keep down the clutter. I went to bed happy and ready to look in the mirror the next morning and be greeted with a more cheerful version of me.
But somewhere, something went wrong. I got up and looked in the closet and, well, I went a little nuts. I ended up with a bright cornflower blue button down, a pale yellow wrap-around sweater and pink plaid ballet flats. Given my post-child bearing body shape, I looked like a giant Easter egg with limbs! I looked in the mirror and thought,
"Wow. That's a lot."
Even worse, I DIDN'T CARE. I was so tired of looking like a lump of charcoal that I figured I could handle walking around like an Easter egg for one Friday.
I was wrong.
Everyone at work had something interesting to say, they said I looked "bright" and "cheerful" and my ever-honest friend Rosanna said,
"Well, to be honest with you, I never would have been able to wear all those colours out of the house. I mean, who would think that they match?! But you do look cute."
I could take the stares on the bus, I could take the comments at the office, I could even take Rosanna's painfully accurate assessment of my fashion sense. But walking downtown in my foo foo pastel get-up was another story.
In my infinite wisdom, I decided to go downtown during lunch to look for a pair of shoes on sale. Now, I don't actually need a pair of new shoes and I don't actually have the money to buy anything right now because I have three clients yet to pay me the balance on their accounts. Buying these shoes was not exactly a frugal move.
To make matters worse, I began looking at the advertising downtown. Colourful flyers were everywhere, and the billboards that flipped ads every 30 seconds and the lovely store windows...it was all too much. I was lured into the mall.
