I Dress Like a Feminist

It kinda hit me as I was packing.  Comfy clothes.  No pantyhose.  No pumps.  Only one bra; I seldom wear them anymore.

Two pairs of shoes.  One is a pair of flats, the other pair is what in the Army is called chlorofram low quarters.  I think civilians call them patent leather oxfords.  Not sure, though.

I tossed a razor into the bag.  I only shave for really, really important occasions.

Like funerals.

When did this happen?

I think it must have been a gradual thing, starting with the decision I had to make when my cosmetic allergy came to light.  Pick one:  wear makeup one day out of three and spend the other two with a rashy face, or give up the whole practice of it.

Over the years I have become less and less tolerant of discomfort.  As pregnancy widened my feet and I outgrew all my heels, I didn't replace them.  My last pair, black suede stilettos, bit the dust last week.

Now, I am not an all-or-nothing kind of person.  I will probably replace the stilettos, and there is that Almay lipstick in my backpack.  I do own bras, some really, really pretty.  In fact, I've thrown out all the bras that aren't particularly pretty.

Maybe it's about practicality. I won't wear something or do something to my body just cuz somebody else thinks I should.  However, I am willing to put up with some discomfort if there's something in it for me.

If I badly wanna get laid, I'll wear the heels.

So, you be the judge.  I have no experience in these things.

Do I dress like a feminist?

--2 October 97