I heard my suits whimpering the other night. It's my own fault; I sleep with the closet doors open. I think you can imagine why.
They are lonesome. And as of this month, products of "an earlier decade." But they don't get to go out anymore. Since joining the Unemployed in October, my wardrobe is made of 2 pairs of jeans, 2 fleeces, and 1 of 2 pair of wool socks. Sometimes I put pajamas on at the end of the day. Sometimes.... meh.
Of the things I miss about working life, I miss my clothes the most. I feel like Wonder Woman in a business suit -- well, to be precise, I feel like Diana Prince, because I would not feel powerful in Wonder Woman's business wear.
Imagine how awesome I'll feel when my clothes actually fit, which they never do. Experts agree that one's clothes should be tailored to them, and there is a new seamstress in town who may be able to take on this project with me. We are working slowly, because besides living on severance, I am also losing weight and redistributing shape. So one project at a time.
I gave her a 3-piece that has never fit (oh, because I bought it one Black Friday in a wrong size because it was 2-for-1. I bought 2. blink...blink) to see how she did, and she did not disappoint. Tomorrow perhaps I'll take the other, then we can start to work the pants.