I can remember when I wore tight jeans that I would be miserable in now. As we age do we develop more sensitivity to uncomfortable clothes or do we just value comfort more?

Hanging next to my black and white coat is my bag of many colors. I love all the colors. It's like a brightly colored patchwork. I always feel more cheerful when I carry it. I swing between the many colors and the black and white. The colors are so fun and happy and cheerful and I feel good when I wear them, but then . . I start wanting the order and simplicity of black and white. The elegance of black and white. I'm not naturally an elegant person so soon I slip back into to slapdash color. Well, I try for slapdash but it usually ends up just a little frumpy.

I've always been slightly out of sync and a notch (or more) behind the latest fashion. Dressing well and fabulously takes an incredible amount of time, money and work. You can skimp on one of the three if you put extra into the other two, but you have to care very much. I've always wanted to look fabulous but I never cared enough to put the effort needed into it. I wanted to look good so I could pass as a capable person to other people, to pass as a "with it" person, not because It made much difference to me personally.

I always wonder if maybe I cared more about how I looked, if I could have pretended to be more normal, I would have found someone to love me but I wouldn't be me then and they would be loving a lie and would eventually hate me. Would it be so bad to pretend a little? Well, I never could, or at least I never could keep it up for long, so it's a strictly rhetorical question.