Thanks be

In a big way this year, I'm thankful for my David and my furball loves.  The combination could not be any more sweet and wonderful.

He's everything I need, even in my fuzziest moments. Especially in my fuzziest moments.

Also, I'm grateful for the beautiful state that is Kansas. All that I am and all that I'll ever be is wrapped up in this beautiful state full of sky and goodness.

Paying attention?

My boss has been wearing the same things for decades.  Seriously, decades.  Only once or twice have I really questioned an article of clothing (you've had that for how long? When exactly was that fashionable?)  but for the most part I realize that at the end of the day, when I leave the office I could no more tell you what she wore that day than tell you how many times I blinked. 

I was really influenced by this article by Eric Wilson that I read a few months ago in the New York Times. The gist of the story is a challenge by this website to choose 6 items from your wardrobe and limit yourself to them for an entire month. 30 days. 4 weeks.  Accessories are fair game, though, and you can wear as many different pairs of shoes as you want.  Most of the women choose black: a skirt, pair of pants, blouse, jeans, and then maybe a tshirt and a versatile sweater or something.  As crazy as it might sound, a lot of women are okay with their chosen lot in fashion life and surprise surprise, hardly anyone notices that they're wearing the same thing over and over.  I think I've achieved this without even trying at work.  I rotate mainly between 3 pairs of nice pants, depending on the season, and two or three skirts.  My shoes are either brown or black, and if I gave myself 15 seconds I bet I could only come up with 4 shirts that I wear to work on a regular basis. 

Therefore, not only should dressing be easier than many of us make it, dressing up should certainly be easier than I tend to make it.  One thing that strikes me when I think about the Six Items or Less (shouldn't it be Fewer? I digress) is the allowance for shoes and accessories.  For goodness sake, my boyfriend is 6'4" (or close), I should wear better shoes.  I'm allowed to be as tall as I want around him.  Also, accessories.  I could do better with those.  Talk about multiple ways to wear one shirt - all you need is different jewelry every day and nobody is going to notice that you haven't changed your shirt all week, especially if you still smell good. 

2=0+1+1

I got really sick this last Christmas. Really, really, really sick. Thankfully not the embracing-the-toilet kind of sick, but it might as well have been.  For whatever reason, a virus set up camp in my throat and my body took up arms and waged the most vicious of bodily battles using the greatest virus-fighting weapon of all time: fever. Fever raged and raged in my body until there was nothing left to sweat out and my cat had decided I was as good as sitting on a floor vent. This went on for six and a half days, during which time all I could think about were things I didn't want to do (eat, sleep, think, be awake, move, drink, talk, be alone, be with other people) and for some reason I kept thinking about clothes.

Now, apparel has never been a huge part of my life. I feel like I hardly even noticed clothes until I got to junior high where there were girls who did care and Delia*s and Alloy started appearing in the mailbox. Even then I carefully considered every purchase for days and days before committing. I still have a skirt from Alloy that I wore on the first day of 8th grade 10 years ago. I didn't even know how to pronounce 'khaki,' a word I'd been coming across in books for years, until I was in 7th grade. Grade school was one big parade of huge t-shirts and leggings and boy's size flannel shirts in the winter.  I did find some good things at the popular thrift store in town (back before anything was more that $9) and on the Urban Outfitters sale rack (I swear, things from there lasted longer than they do now) and in my friend's closets, but the rotation was pretty limited and I always felt self-conscious because I couldn't afford to shop at the Buckle or Abercrombie and Fitch.

Then came high school.  I had started lifting weights as a freshman and was competing in Olympic Weightlifting by the beginning of my sophomore year.  As a result of 4 day a week workouts, I was solid.  Before this goes too far, let me explain that weightlifting is far different from bodybuilding.  I had a ton of muscle, but it wasn't anything like those people who spray tan and grunt and smile and flex.  No, my muscle was concentrated in my hips and thighs, which was helpful standing up from a front-squat in a clean, but not so great trying to fit into jeans.  On top of that (literally) my stomach and waist were as flat and skinny as any girl could ever want, so when I did find jeans that fit my butt, they were too loose in the waist. I wore whatever I could find that fit, which were usually second-hand jeans two sizes too big with a belt.  The I had to wear a shirt big enough to cover the awkward cinched waistline I was sporting and voila - frump.

Time has progressed, and now I'm 25 with a debit card, credit card, Gap card, driver's license and internet access.  In my fevered state, approaching the new year in all kinds of misery, I told myself that the only thing I cared about was getting and feeling better so I could appreciate all the things I couldn't do while an invalid.  I wanted to kiss my boyfriend without getting him sick, I wanted to go to shows and movies and museums, I wanted to antagonize my cat with the laser pointer he got for Christmas...I wanted to do things that made me truly happy and would stay with me forever.  As I came to these conclusions, my New Year's Resolution was decided. I will not shop for clothes in 2011. Here goes.