In Which Amazon Mourns for Her Wardrobe. (No, really).

Good Evening. :-)


So, guess what? I just spent an hour trying on a bunch of my Fun Clothes to see if they still fit.

FYI? Most of them don't.
:-P

Fuck.
:-P

Not, I grant you, that I have buckets of opportunity to get gussied up to Go Out anywhere, but still. I think it's kind of sad.
For a number of reasons which, you lucky people, I shall now enumerate:
1) I don't get to go out as much as I used to.
2) I don't have to body I used to.
3) I'm feeling sad about not having the body I used to, even though I *like* the body I have now.
4) Not that most of those clothes cost me much (or anything, in some cases), but it's sad to have to get rid of them. :-(

I mean, I've got a really cute vinyl corsetty thing that *really* doesn't fit me any more. I get 'back tits' with it now, even at its loosest. Four years ago, it fit me fine with the laces done up so tight that the grommets touched. My pvc halter top thing hasn't fit in about two years. Same with my spider corset, my silver bodice and the red-roses bodice that closed using little bows all down the front.

Now, granted, switching to full/a-line skirts, well-structured, hip-length bodices and Things That Drape Prettily isn't exactly a hardship, and it's not like getting rid of old stuff won't make room for new stuff.
It's just sad. It's like, I dunno... getting rid of your "skinny clothes" -- it's like your admitting you'll never be able to wear them again. Getting rid of my clubbing clothes is like saying "I am now committed to a life of sitting at home and reading on all my Friday Nights. For Ever." Which is mildly distressing, even if I really like reading. :-)



In other news: ( A word on Pretty Boys in Eyeliner. )

On a Related Note (that WILL turn into a bit of a rant, I warn you):
I sometimes (often) wonder why my husband - who knows what colours look good on him, and which ones don't - none the less chooses to Not Care About That Stuff.
I will have to ask him.

( The Ranty Bit )

Anyway. That's what's been on my mind today. :-)


I fear that I may be coming down with something. My eyes are bleary (or my vision is blurry, either way) and I have that Hot-Ick-Sick feeling in the back of my throat, and I'm really, freaking tired. And I want a hot bath.
But I must continue tidying up. Really, really, really. :-)


- TTFN,
- Amazon.


[1] Yes, I know. The colour won't actually make you healthier. None the less, I've had royal blue make me *look* healthier on numerous occasions, which is a help when you have to Deal with the public, and want them to talk to you without giving you that "do I really want to be around this person? What if she's contagious?" look...

Poetry!

Regrets, Unlessoned

Walking down the street in early April,
In shoes (at last), not boots, my
mittens stuffed
unceremoniously into my shoulder bag
(Freedom!)
My hands feel the freshening breeze for the first time, since
Winter came

A stranger stops me

A stranger stops me,
r-e-a-c-h-e-s
across the boundary of space to
touch
my skin, to
take
my hand, and say:
"See?
You have got to take better care of your fingernails. No
man's gonna want to talk to you, looking
like that."

Just
like that.

For only a moment (the purest
shock)
you could hear a pin drop,
a shoe drop,
a drop that, falling, makes ripples (in the still, cool waters of someone else's lake)

There's a little boy clinging, in a way that says
Daddy.
Big eyes that take everything in.

"How Dare you??" I did not say
"What (the hell) gave you the impression that
I
am doing this for
(the likes of) you?
I am (the subject of my own world)
NOT (an ornament to yours)!"

I did not say it.

Big eyes that take everything in.

I wish I had.

*~*~*~*~*


Wrote that one today, over lunch. :-)



On a completely and UTTERLY unrelated note:
Vagina Dentata... (What a wonderful phrase... ;-)