Feeling My Clothes

My favorite orange top with the raised flowers in white Made me prance into church, feeling beautiful and right I sashayed down the aisle, feeling all that for sure that day Until a young child said “You’re having a baby! Mrs. Kay.”’ At fifty-five years young, I did not think I could feel any worse. That orange top went into the give-away-pile with my ugly black purse. Unless clothing gives me joy, it is not going to be worn by me. Style creates my mood, always has, don’t you see? You’re not wearing that! My husband said to my Bohemian wrap. I sure as hell am, I replied. “Why don’t you go take a nap?” He cannot ruin my pretty clothes with silly comments like this. I gave him a snarl, the bad finger and a sweet sounding hiss. I did wear the wrap, and my girlfriends all gathered around. You look so wonderful today, they murmured with all kinds of sound. I knew then that it was not as gorgeous as I had hoped it would be. So it went into the give-away-pile, while I tried on other clothes that fit me.