Monday, July 14, 2014

Common Sense: 1 Self-consciousness: 0

This past week, it's been over 27 degrees in the office where I work. (That's over 80 for those of you who still think that the metric system is the devil's handiwork.) However you count it, that's on the warm side, especially when you consider that I live in the Pacific Northwest, land of rain, more rain, and mild temperatures.

...but I digress.

The heat isn't the subject of today's blog, at least, not directly. The warm weather was the catalyst for a significant change in my wardrobe. First, I bought skirts, some of which actually show my legs! And now I've taken another step into the land of "I really don't care anymore," and bought a number of sleeveless shirts. I'll be hitting the "mid-forty" mark in a matter of weeks, and I haven't worn a sleeveless top outside of my house since I was a teenager. Why? Because I have fat arms. No matter how much I dieted, swam, worked out, toned, lifted, flexed or starved, the arms never changed, so I hid them.

Not anymore. Apparently I have reached the age where adhering to the fashion laws for the flabby set just doesn't seem that important. My give a damn is officially busted. I'm typing this while at the office, in a tasteful, sleeveless shirt and a skirt that only comes to the knee. I'm comfortable, despite the fact it's only 10 am and the temperature in here is already 27 degrees. I'm not going to spend the next forty years covering up out of fear someone may take offense to my imperfections. I'm finally figuring out what's really important, and it's certainly not how much skin I'm showing.

Besides, if they're going to judge me for anything, it'll be for my magenta colored hair.