why i am wearing forrest green tights under my jeans

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

I allowed myself to stay in bed too long this morning. That’s the short explanation as to why I am currently wearing forrest green pedal pusher tights under my jeans. They were an impulse purchase at H&M. I normally think that store is a trash factory (they’re just so bad in LA), but I dragged my feet in to one after a particularly bad job interview in Chicago hoping that maybe I could find something to make me feel snazzy again. I know. That’s horrible psychology.

I’ve only worn these tights once. I threw them on under this cotton dress that’s never won a single battle with the wind. In fact, I only wear this dress when I know that I can live with the fact that I might accidentally flash someone while a door shuts behind me, because it’s just bound to happen. I’ve never worn this dress and not flashed someone and I own tights that match nothing I own. What a mess! So yeah, so I woke up a little late and I saw the tights chillin in an open location and I thought to myself, “Today I’m going to make those tights happen.”

I would never advise attempting to integrate a new piece of clothing in to your wardrobe when you’re running late. I’ve been making this mistake since I’ve been dressing myself. A seven year old me would put on a new sweater before school and then debate the gaudiness of the gambling dogs on the front of it before giving up and putting on a long-sleeved t-shirt. That’s how I was with the tights this morning.

I put them on first. Then I was like, “Tank top! Can’t go wrong with a tank top in Los Angeles!” so I put on a black Hanes situation I stole from a man once. If I can get away with not wearing pants, I will, but the shirt barely covered my butt and this city isn’t down for that kind of party. I debated putting shorts on over the tights. I put big socks on. I put on a sweater and a jacket. It didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t wearing pants. You have to cover your privates in public. It drives me nuts, but it’s a rule.

In a final effort to make it work, I put on a t-shirt that says “Kill a Commie for Mommy.” Believe it or not, adding another shirt to my outfit still did not make up for the fact that I was not wearing pants. I was almost running late at this point, I kept the shirt on, put on the jeans that were on the floor next to my bed and grabbed a cardigan out of the closet that doesn’t match any of it.

Then I went back to bed.