Dressed with Distress

Guys have it easy. As a general rule, when they get dressed up, they only have to ask “Do I have to wear a suit?” and on very rare occasions “Do I have to wear a tuxedo?” Girls get a very different dilemma. They not only have to worry whether they have to wear a skirt, but also about the color of the skirt, the material, the looseness, whether they wore the same thing a few days ago, if they can wear a hat,and whether they can safely wear close-toed shoes, to say nothing of the color, make, and style of the blouse, jewelry, and bag.

I am aware that certain persons have taken it upon themselves to make men’s clothing just as difficult. (This is why we have the fashion industry and the hipster.) The common man has in large part ignored this and just worries about matching his belt to his shoes.

Females such as myself are in a similar position. We don’t like the rules and have no inclination to follow them. We like dressing up, but have very distinctive styles. I have the fashion sense of a viking hippy. (That is to say, an elf.) So we cheat. My own cheating involves (gasp) wearing the same thing to every formal function possible. This involves lots of black, corduroy pants and a sweater. One day I hope to have the wardrobe of a conservative hobbit, or at least a college professor.

Then again, perhaps that I am attune to these things means that do have a good fashion sense. Perhaps guys have a bigger barrier. My little brother recently attended a formal function with his tie tied in a half hitch. Now I may have to worry whether my nylons match my blouse, but, for the present at least, I don’t have to tie a tie.

(I do realize hostesses may have to wear ties. I consider this an occupational hazard.)

Thanks to cartoonchurch.com for the wonderfully informative diagram.


Art and cleanliness

Having been sick in the last week, I look terrible; however, my room is pretty and with that I am happy. We have also been cleaning out our storage area and with much joy, I have received some of my mother’s old clothing which was buried there. I guess it should tell me something that what my mom made at fifteen fits me better than what I make. No matter, I have clothes.

I have discovered the joy of sketching and with much dismay, the fact that we have no working scanner. I’m unsure as to the methods of drawing people properly, and my drawings seem to express a corresponding lack of surety as they all try to decide whether or not they are contortionists. On the bright side, if I take long developing this ability, I will rid myself of the pencils cluttering up my holder, inadvertently using up all my precious papers and erasers and saddling myself with lots of doodles….”Ah well, if that’s the price of art then–”

“Then what? You aren’t artsy.”

“Hush (*mumble* stupid multiple voices)”

“This hobby will waste your time–”

“I waste it anyway.”

“Clutter your room!”

“We won’t get into that.”

“Destroy your small supply of erassssaaarssss!”

Can you tell I’m happy? A little non-consistent with the fact I leave for backpacking in a week and was sick for the preparation hike. 😉

Siblings are strange. You can write complete trash (or draw) and give it to them. They make you feel so happy. Aside from encouraging you, you don’t have to keep anything because they file all of your junk and ask to keep it for life. I wonder how I got my side of the room so clean.