Mini Mid-life Crisis
Press play here: Miniskirt by Esquivel
I am 41. I spent my 20's and my 30's acting like I was in my 20's and I have crashed right into my 40's. I am not sure what I was supposed to go through in my 30's. I hope that I do not find myself at a disadvantage later in life for having skipped the life lessons of that decade as the years roll on.
I have started facing down the many boxes of things that I abandoned to the basement of the house of my parents. A lot of dreams delayed and a lot of relics of the life and person that I once was. Among these items, I found four miniskirts. I do not remember wearing them as a youth and I should get rid of them.
Hello Kitty t-shirts, short shorts, halter tops, tube tops, mini-skirts, velvet dresses with big bows - these are the trappings of youth. On a woman of a certain age, they look weird. They look wrong.
But my subconscious cannot quite accept this yet. I have been wearing them, the skirts, that is. Wearing them to lunch, wearing them to brunch, wearing them to work. Granted, I am short, so the skirts are not as short as they ought to be, more like an inch above the knee. But still, I imagine myself to be very close to getting some sort of reprimand from HR. BE has advised me to at least throw some thick tights on with them.
I am "The delusional woman who is still trying to pull it off." I am trying to prevent myself from buying any new miniskirts and have told myself that I must donate the skirts in question to Goodwill on my 45th birthday. Check in with me on that one.
It might have been Gwyneth Paltrow's appearance on Glee that first sparked this crime against fashion. With the difference in our ages, height and figures, the effect is not the same. But heck, I figure it's now or never. Perhaps next year I will start wearing bikinis to lunch, brunch and the office. I am, after all, 30 years from wearing Christmas tree sweaters with Santa Claus pins.
It possible that I would be better off buying a red convertible sports car.