The other day I wore a thin, long-sleeved t-shirt layered underneath a regular t-shirt and didn't realize until I got to work that there were holes in both sleeves of the undershirt. Not to mention a tiny hole in the outer shirt that I'm going to ignore for now because it's one of my favorites.
The evidence has been cumulative: a flannel nightgown from the '80s reduced to a pile of dustrags, a long-sleeved tee looking thin and stretched out, a silk-screened t-shirt design cracking and fading despite being hung to dry after each washing, a spot on a tank top that isn't coming out in the wash. Finally the revelation: I need some new clothes.
My husband is in the same boat. We both wear jeans and t-shirts most of the time, but most of the attrition in his wardrobe comes from t-shirts shrinking over time or getting poked full of holes when Xena jumps into his arms and clings to his shoulder with her claws.
I can hardly think of an activity I enjoy less than shopping for clothes. Yesterday I visited a few boutiques with my sister and niece. Sure, all the clothes look adorable in size 5, but not so cute by the time they've tacked on an extra yard of fabric to get to my size.
I ended up with one top I thought was fairly cute. When I put it on over my Yummie Tummie tank to go to a party last night, my husband's comment was, "It's a little snug, isn't it?" So, yeah.
I've been trying to buy some clothes online, but no matter how detailed the sizing and measurement information are, I never seem to be able to buy anything that fits properly. One way or another, I need to do something about my wardrobe. It's bad enough that I wear jeans, t-shirts and sneakers every day; it's much worse when those garments are also worn out.
It looks like I'm going to have no choice but to enlist a fashionable friend for a shopping trip soon. If you'd like to volunteer for that position, I'm accepting all applicants.
Image of The Shaggy Man from the Oz books found at Wikimedia Commons.