Slob Chic

My standards for dressing to go out in public have fallen. Fallen very far, down into the basement. The sub-basement. Under the parking garage. After working in the yard and helping the son do the semi-annual thorough cleaning of his bathroom I was stinky. And dirty. But I slapped on a baseball cap, put on my sunglasses, and hopped in the car to run a shopping errand. I thought, I'm putting on my fancy tropical print mask that covers whatever face is left under the sunglasses so I don't care. I do wonder if my previous standard of showering and a teensy bit of makeup will return eventually or if I have entered the fuck it, whatever stage of old ladyhood. And yes, old ladies say fuck it. Welcome to the new wave of grunge*. If you don't recognize me in my face mask, I'm the one in the slovenly clothes with the dirt under my fingernails. Wave at me from an appropriate social distance. Thank you.

*Notice how I cleverly snuck two genres of rock music into that sentence?