Shame. I don’t really have any. To that end when I do something particularly inane, something that might actually embarrass a person capable of feeling shame, I like to share it with facebook. So everyone can delight in my foibles.
This morning I left the house in a scrunchie. Twice actually. The first time it was not even quite 7:30 in the morning and I was picking up breakfast items from Weaver Street Market just down the street. I was going to let that slide. But then I did it again. I was making a habit of this. Scrunchie wearing.
I am not the only woman on the planet guilty of this heinous crime. But I refuse to allow myself to let Hillary Clinton guide my fashion choices. Stacey & Clinton, yes, Hillary Clinton, no. So, that’s no excuse.
I don’t even know how it is that I still own a scrunchie. And when I tossed it out on to the internet this morning I didn’t expect to get a reaction. But it seems people feel strongly about the scrunchie. And for the most part, they feel appalled that I own one. I am a girl that wears cropped overalls for fuck’s sake. So, for me to shock and appall my friends with my fashion choices, this is not an easy task.
I did two things today that were unusual. I wore a scrunchie while not washing my face. Out in to the world.
And then, I succumbed to peer pressure. The fashion conscious among us, you will be pleased to know this…. I threw that fucker away. It was the last one. I have had it for at least twenty years. The rubberband inside that scrunchie must have been made of steel. And there, in the dog park, I tossed it.
The folks at the dog park were treated to my smiling face sans scrunchie.
Big day for me. This morning I set myself some out loud Life goals. And then I pitched my scrunchie. I’m not sure it is gonna help me right away. But as soon as I stop carrying around this basketball this shit is gonna get REAL.
Just not yet. I’ve got about seven more weeks of being barefoot and pregnant.