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| Me. Talking. It's a habit... |
Okay, I admit it.
Fashion has never been my forte.
Yes, I like to look tidy.
And clean.
And have at least a passing acquaintance with what is
popular.
I do draw the line at old and frumpy.
But sometimes, I’ve been known to stretch the rules a bit.
Case in point . . .
It was Sunday.
I wanted to wear my cream-coloured sweater. It was bulky.
Comfy.
And, with the frigid cold outside, warm.
I donned a coordinating skirt. Then my sweater.
Stopped in front of the mirror on my way out the door to do
a cursory examination.
Oops. Something wasn’t quite right.
You have to know that, with the large brood of children we
had, it wasn’t unusual to be marked.
Spilled on. Used for everything from soiled fingers to runny
noses.
And sometimes said marks and spillage went unnoticed until my
little glance in front of the mirror the next time those clothes were worn.
What’s that? Up near the shoulder?
What could only be classified as a smudge.
If I had the equipment, and the ambition, I probably could
have taken a fingerprint.
And identified the culprit.
But that was unimportant right then. We were getting ready
to leave and this was the only sweater that went with this particular skirt. A
total change was indicated. Sigh.
Then I thought of another solution. A daring, totally doable
solution!
Turn the sweater inside out.
Which I did.
I glanced again into the mirror.
Perfect! Not one stain or fingerprint.
And no one would notice the inside-out-age anyway.
Wrong.
No sooner had I sat down in one of the pews in the center of
the chapel then someone tapped me on the shoulder. “Diane. Your sweater’s on
inside out.”
I turned back. “I know,” I said. “The other side is dirty.”
There was a gasp and the sound of laughter from everyone
seated behind me.
Then one of them said, and I quote, “Only Diane.”
I guess if I have to be known for something, this is okay.
