Fashions for Dying

Every since designers discovered that fat women have money to spend I've been into fashion. I've bounced between a size 16 and size 22 and have always been able to find stylish clothes and accessories. In fact, when I was working I had a reputation for dressing well and was often asked by size 5 women where I got my clothes. That was always a treat. Since I've been home due to disability and retirement there's been no reason to dress up. No reason to put on the expensive makeup or spray the expensive perfumes. There's also been no money to maintain those things. There's been no reason to behave as if I was dressing to go to work every morning. But a funny thing happened on the way to the funeral parlor...I started caring about how I look.

Now I'm not talking about wanting to look good in case I unexpectedly drop dead because as I understand it that's won't be how I die. I mean not going to doctor's appointments looking like I really am two steps from deaths door, doing nothing more than showering and putting on clean jeans and a shirt. I have spectacular earrings and necklaces and eye shadows that match damn near any color clothing I put on. But putting on makeup or earrings or necklaces implies hope and I'm not so sure I've had much of that lately. There are definitely days I know I'm NOT DYING. I can feel it in my soul. It's just not my time. But there are other times, other days when my body hurts so much and I'm gasping for air and I'm not sure of anything other than that I hate feeling like this. I rarely leave the house and it makes no sense to go through all these "dress up" changes just for myself. My husband works the night shift and loves me like I am...dressed up or dressed down. I also don't have the money to buy the clothes and other things I used to.

Still, when I think about what is the fashion of death or perhaps the fashion of hope I have to dig some of those beautiful shirts out of the back of my closet and at least start shopping for makeup at a local discount store I recently found. Clothes and makeup have always been my armour, my protection against a world that didn't accept my skin color or size and its worked well. I'm not sure what to wear to protect myself against pain, bad health and death. Perhaps the color blue? OK I'm being facetious. I actually think I want to wear bright colors like orange, red, yellow and of course purple. I've always loved the line from the book "The Color Purple" where Shug Avery says "I think its pisses God off if you pass by the color purple and don't nod at it." And of course there's the book "When I'm An Old Woman I'll Wear Purple."

So I guess what I'm saying is its time to get back to at least caring a little about how I look to the world. It's time to find reasons to leave the house and see people again. The thing is, I talk a good game but can I actually do it?