So after a very long time of not buying clothing and looking like a bit of a ragamuffin, I bought a small stable of staple fill in pieces. This was back in the Spring, but they were still, by my lame standards, considered my "new" and "good" clothes.
In the weeks and months that followed: a couple shirts got put into a bag on a trip to East Texas and got bleached. My favorite long gypsy kind of skirt shredded in the dryer, even though it was to've withstood the drying. My ample thighs rent the fabric in an unsewable way on my favorite all purpose wear everywhere heavy linen floods. I spilled coffee or salsa or curried squash soup or some such thing onto nearly every shirt I own, leaving behind (despite Oxyclean soaking) faint oily / colored stains....
And then last night the Mister dried and folded (thank you) my and Ziggy's clothing-- I'd laundered that load just before I nursed the very upset snuffley snouted baby down and fell asleep curled 'round him. I awoke (far too early, after far too many wakeful hours filled with miserable baby tears) to find that I'd really blown it by leaving my TerraTint healthfood-store lipgloss/balm in my jeans pocket. The entire load is now marred with blops of mineral tint and whatever moisture base the balm was based in. Zig's clothes aren't as bad, somehow, but my basic go everywhere linen skirt and my favorite all purpose "new" yoga pants and most-worn pair (of two) jeans? Awful.
All of which goes to say, when next you see me, do me a favor? Just pretend you don't notice my dry glossless lips and my torn, stained clothing. Or, for that matter, my ill fitting & falling apart nursing bras since I bought household organizational items and a rug for baby play with this year's panty and brassiere budget. Tell me instead how well the deep dark circles under my eyes set off the flashing color of my irises. You won't be lying.