Wearing My Will

I have been told my whole life that I don’t have style.

They were wrong.

If their goal was to beat me down until my wardrobe was completely full of things that are boring, or that don’t feel like they are mine, they were successful.

I gave up slowly.

I tried to wear fashionable things but was told I didn’t look good in them. I tried wearing roomy things and was told I looked frumpy. I wore fitted clothes and was told they weren’t flattering. I wore bold colors and was told to wear patterns.

I learned every trick. But still, they said “You look matronly” or “You should wear things you like” or “you should wear <enter the thing I wore years before that they said looked terrible on me>”.

So I’d like to say “screw ’em” but …. I don’t know what I want to wear any more. No one matches anymore, so I can really wear any colors or patterns I want, but… what do I want to wear?

Look, I gave up, okay?

Clothes are stupid anyway.

I gave up and I don’t care anymore.

I want to wear my bra and some boxer-briefs. And shoes. Just some support and something to keep me and my furniture clean. The rest of it… I don’t care.