When all of this pandemic era is over, which side is going to come out ahead? The ones who want to drag us back to the way it used to be, or the ones who have seen the light? You know what I'm talking about, surely. They will to try to make us wear hard pants in public again, I know it. I will not comply. I don't think I will ever again accept wearing textiles that are less than 5% spandex. What is the point? I was always the type of person who swelled up more than average over the course of a day, and inflexible clothes that were tolerable in the morning became torturous tourniquets by sundown. I was born for yoga pants and tunic sweaters. Maybe that is why I look forward to autumn so much. It certainly has been a benefit of our common crisis, recognizing that we can work just fine from our couches, with pets next to us, wearing soft clothes. Don't try to drag us back from this brave new world. Just don't.
You would have thought I had a date this afternoon, for all the effort I put into my appearance, not just an appointment with the fun physical therapist. By this I mean I paid extra attention to my hair and makeup, before pulling on Addidas yoga pants from Costco and a soft, rust-colored tunic sweater from Walmart. This counts as fancy now. And not kidding at all, I felt pretty put-together. I was so happy with how curly my hair came out that I thought I would take a couple selfies until I got one or two that didn't make me self-conscious about my weight or crooked smile. By the first click, I noticed a black and silver head sneaking into the frame, until it became an entire Anne-and-Saoirse photo shoot. The very last one is my favorite, but watching her figure out she was invited to play along over the course of them was pretty fun. Even the ones with double chins showing were amusing. I'll put the best one first, so it is my thumbnail when I post tonight, but I'll show the evolution of the event after that.
I had a major existential crisis this morning. I was in my recliner, looking at how puffy my eyelid was (a topic for another time, maybe), with only indirect natural light in the room. I glanced at my irises, wondering how they would appear under this light. I'd noticed that the switch to LED bulbs had really brought out the greener side of the "olive drab" I'd always called my shade of brown eyes. I looked really hard at the magnifying mirror I was holding, and for the first time it occurred to me to Google what hazel eyes actually look like. I was stunned to see photos that looked like mine. I don't know who I am anymore. Is it possible that after more than 50 years of believing I was brown-eyed, I'm actually not? I need to make an appointment with the ophthalmologist (overdue for checkup required by hydroxychloroquine use for lupus). He is going to think I am the weirdest kid, but I need to ask him what color my eyes are. I really don't know anymore.
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