I picked up a book by Christopher Hopkins the other day: Staging Your Comeback. His topic of midlife makeovers for the style-impaired tied in perfectly with a self-improvement project I’ve embarked upon.
I’ve been on a mini-campaign of spending more time on myself. Trying to enhance my midlife health and self-esteem has me eating Greek yogurt, taking more walk-breaks than sit-breaks at work, getting deep tissue massages, doing a little yoga.
Most importantly, I’m trying to keep my self-talk as kind to ME as I would be to a FRIEND, instead of looking in the mirror with a sigh or a groan.
On Mr. Hopkins’ advice, I reviewed my wardrobe. I’d been following the folks over at The Great American Apparel Diet who vowed not to buy any new clothes for a year—surprisingly easy to do with my aversion to shopping and those badly lit, evil mummy-crypt dressing rooms in particular.
So my wardrobe was in a particularly grim condition. My knit shirts are pilled and droopy, or shrunken. My black slacks have been washed so often they’re dark gray. Don’t even ask about my undergarments—they aren’t even suitable for dust rags.
So I clicked the computer mouse a few times, the UPS man came, and I had a couple of new pairs of fun printed capris, knit sleeveless layering tops, and some ¾ sleeve open weave, tunic length cardigans that I was sure were all the rage.
Yay! I can totally have a comeback! The internet was built for GOOD, if it can make pretty capris show up on my front porch lickity-split.
I care about my appearance, even at 55! I’m going to stand up straight. Look out, world! I am sexy, I am a real woman, power to the feminine, this earth goddess has wings! And I’m out of breath!
Later that day, still basking in the new glow of my mid-life confidence, I accompanied my mother to church. A lovely, but quite elderly lady of 80+ years was walking with a cane in front of us as we went in. Her hair was as white and puffy as a dandelion ball. And she was wearing my butterfly print capris with a sweet crocheted sweater that bore a remarkable resemblance to the one Mr. UPS had delivered to my front porch.
I was the balloon, and she was the needle. Pop! Her comeback was going quite well, but mine was dealt a setback, let’s call it. I guess it’s better to be dressing too old for my age rather than too young. Bah.
So you don’t need to worry about me getting vain, peeps. My humility is intact. My comeback has been temporarily postponed.
But I did hear Kohl’s is having a BIG sale this coming weekend….