What was I thinking...

During a busy day of major house cleaning, I discovered I was out of my favorite cleanser. I grabbed my keys and headed off to the store. On my way into the store, I ran into a old acquaintance from middle school. We exchanged pleasantaries. I noticed she kept look at my body. I was feeling bad enough about my weight and this was killing me. Granted, it is rude to stare, but it was also hurtful. We said good-bye and off I went to the cleaning aisle. The things that were going through my head about myself and the acquaintance were not nice.

By the time I checked out, I had worked myself into a STATE let me tell you. As I left the store, I caught a glimpse of myself in the window and began laughing out loud. Let me describe what I wearing: An old pair of dark blue sweatpants so old they had several holes on both legs and bleach spots throughout. A shirt with faded screen printing of Aerosmith from a long ago concert-- with it's own set of holes and bleach spots. Did I mention the sweatpants were to short and only came down slightly below the knee--yeah, and I had not had time to shave that week. My hair was pulled back Aunt Jamima style in a red bandanna and my shoes resembled low top brogans. NOW I know what she was staring at. Heck, I would have been staring to. When I finally regained my composure, I went to the car.

When I got home, I called my mom told her about my outfit and asked her, "What is it in my genetic makeup that made me think this was acceptable attire, and further more, why do I own an outfit like this". Her response, "well sweetie, all I know to tell you is that I have the same outfit".

I am, proudly, my Mother's Daughter.