dressing thin (lyn)

Robyn, my fashion muse, stops by after work to pick up a video.  She works in sales for a lingerie company, and comes dressed, as usual, in an edgy outfit --- jean jeggings, 4-inch heels (the only person I know who can walk in them), a black satiny wrap and a lacy silk camisole.  She’d turn heads, and does.  Robyn meets men everywhere.  In fact, she’s having drinks this week with a man she met while riding her bike.  I would imagine that’s pretty hard to do.

I am going to theater tonight with a more conservative friend, and I’m dressed in a biggish grey crinkle skirt with a white top and my favorite cotton black sweater, that lands somewhere near my hips.  Robyn never criticizes, but when asked, she’ll always give a candid and reliable opinion.  So I ask her about my outfit.  “Fine, if you are aiming for Cape Cod casual, but definitely not New York hip.”  I immediately change into a tight fitting white scoop top and throw a small pink cashmere sweater over my shoulders.  “Much better, “ I’m told.

I meet my friend and we see That Face, written by a 19 year old British playwright who won all sorts of awards for it in London.  It begins with two boarding school girls torturing a 13 year old classmate, then shifts to her 18 year old brother who is cuddling with his mother in bed, and ends 90 minutes later with that same troubled boy, now dressed in drag, feverishly clinging to his very sick mother as she is being lead away to an institution.  Not exactly an upbeat play.

While I’m watching this gut-wrenching piece of theater, my mind wanders and I think about my choice of clothes.  Robyn is right.  I still cover up my body rather than showcase it.  I’m still not accustomed to being thin.  But then I remember my mother telling me this a few years ago, even before I had gained a lot of weight.  “Show off your body.  You dress to over it up.”  I remember that prompted a major donation to Salvation Army.  I think it’s time again to say good-bye to my comfort clothes.