Ok, so summer ist upon us. #observant
And I am very gradually coming to the conclusion that it might be time to change out the cardigans and scarves I’ve been wearing for clothes that will allow my skin to breathe and develop that radiant, healthy, sun-kissed glow.
The only issue is, in order to wear summer clothing, I must own summer clothing.
In order to own summer clothing, I must buy summer clothing.
This is a very real obstacle.
See, what happens in clothing stores (and let’s be honest: we know I mean H&M #forlife) is that I walk in, all confident and cheerful, I drag myself around the aisles – despite armpit sweat and questionable oxygen levels – picking and choosing, like a good customer should.
Then, after standing in line for the changing rooms for *five minutes* (half and hour), I get to trying the things on.
And suddenly, the mirrors are surrounding me!
The flourescent lights are blinding my eyes, all I can do is to squint suspiciously at my reflection…
Searching for the clothes I supposedly just put on… And the terror hits me!
My knees wobble.
I desperately attempt to free myself from the strips of fabric.
Whimpering, I slide down the wall and hit the floor.
My body, once so motivated and full of life, now lies helplessly on the scratchy carpet, waiting to be rescued.
One leg halfway through a pair of hot-pants, price-tags strewn around me like bullets.
Accepting the vicious, cruel reality of what is now considered fashion, I consider the advantages of nudism.
Deciding to preserve my dignity, I opt for…procrastination.
Shopping can be completed a different time.