All dressed down and somewhere to go
I realized tonight I have absolutely nothing to wear to go 'out'. This is not to imply I run around naked, but rather that my staid, boring wardrobe (read: Casual Corner, Gap, with shades of Banana Republic and Ann Taylor) is no match for a night out on the town. Add a recent weight loss which leaves my pants sagging somewhere past my hips and given that many of my shirts are in the snug-fitting category, it's a little precarious: there's now a little gap of skin between pant and shirt and I spend an amazing amount of time performing the Picard Maneuver. Up pants, down shirt! It's an all around sad, sad -- if not energetically aerobic -- story. (mental note: buy a belt).
The old!Seema would have taken the lack of cool going out wardrobe as a reason to stay home and curl up with a good novel. The new!improved!Seema put on a pair of saggy pants (Gap!) and a rather boring sweater (Ann Taylor!) and went out. Of course, the whole time I was out, I was trying desperately not to stand up or move around as not to reveal the saggy pants situation. And I was also hoping for a dark corner, because yo, I'm still a wee bit sensitive about the hair.
But the night was warm, the plaza was full of people and the food filling, if not extraordinary. I talked the night away, and the company talked back to me. I found myself out of water, my throat parched, and somewhere between the time the waiter took my empty plate away and when the police said it was time to get going, kids, I realized the saggy pants and boring sweater didn't really matter; I was out and feeling like myself, more so than I have in a long time. It felt, in a word, good.