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April 27, 2012


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Well. First of all, when I once said there is more to you than recycled sweaters, I had NO idea. Second, I am moved to remark that it seems there were a whole lot more people commenting on blogs before this decade. I look back at mine during the same period and wonder if some of those friends and family members have died or something since.

I went through a couple of clothes periods - in the 60s, it was Yardly based. In the seventies, it had to do with making my own '30s pants and a very nice little white poplin single breasted jacket with a red halter top under it.

Now, I don't care. The irony is the same here - in my youth, I walked around campus wondering if I looked like a person with a back-end following on leash. The only times I've ever been consistently happy and confident in how I looked were after I'd given birth and nursed off weight till I actually could see hip bones. My great grandmother was 320 pounds easy. My own mother borrowed one of my Dale sweaters once, and the ribbing at the waist never fit me right again (not that she was anything over 150 or 60 - and since I loved her so much, it didn't matter).

There was a day - at a writer's convention actually, in Seattle, where I was the visiting famous person - when I sat in front of a motel mirror and realized that I had more than one chin. How had it happened? Crept right up on me over years and years of not paying attention. But that's about body, not clothes. I have never known clothes. Have never been tempted by labels. Once, I tried on a torso hugging navy blue dress with a sweeping skirt that sort of evolved out of the torso and became an upside down, silky lily shape. I felt darling in it. Such a strange and wonderful feeling, I was suspicious of it and did not buy.

Good thing. I'd probably still have it, and every time I'd put it on, I'd remember the day I saw a very old, almost skin and bone woman "walking" the mall - with that female under-the-navel shelf sticking out - the only fat deposit on her body - and I swore I'd NEVER have onel

I think your stinger is the slam dunk here. When we stop looking at ourselves and we really start looking at other people, then the people are no longer mirrors. And they we can see what's really in their eyes.

The Trad

I love how this reads. Without any effort, it glides, as if on heels of oiled glass. And anyone who writes knows that shit ain't easy to do.


Kristen - I can't believe you didn't buy the lily dress. That's a post in and of itself. And so interesting that you noticed the extra chin (hard to believe it really exists, because you are so thin!) when you were the resident famous person. I had a meeting the other day and ten minutes into it realized the other person was acting strangely because he was nervous. I wondered how it was that I could make someone in my own field nervous, when clearly, I'm just so...well, you know.

TinTin - thank you.


AND, I meant to say, Kristen, that I've only shared this blog with a small handful, and most were (on the old blog) always lurkers, anyway. After five years, I just about had my sister trained to say, "Huh." on posts - just to say *someething*.


I went back to try it on some three times. When I'd finally resolved to spend the money, it was gone, and I've never seen anything like it since. One of the most prosaic of my regrets.

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