Fashionista

Up til recently, I had a very definite sense of style. And that style included many, many black articles of clothing. I can't remember when I started wearing black, but I do recall that until I was 14 years old I was not allowed to wear all black. I'm not sure why that was...if my parents thought I'd instantly become a wiccan or that I might fall in with some dastardly all-black wearing group of 13 year olds or what. (Though they did show a distinct dislike, also, for floral dresses).
Also, I can recall Mr. Secrist, my high school psychology teacher and object of my only teacher-crush, saying in class that black made things appear tall and slim (two things which I generally do not appear). And so I began buying predominantly black clothing.
I should note here, as well, that apart from liking black things, I also had an enormous number of tee shirts. Not the kind that boys wear, but the simple, v-necked, unadorned ones that you get at Old Navy for 6.99. This appeared to be the sum total of my ability to dress myself.

Recently, I took a strange job that requires me to dress like my co-workers.
I am totally serious, and this is the proof.
Suddenly, I had to fill my closet with clothes of various colors. AAAH!

I ran straight to Good will and bought v-necked tee shirts in 5 colors and hoped for the best. But no! I looked like a frumpy old woman compared to the other girls--and I'm the second youngest.

So I went out and bought clothes this weekend. Honest to goodness, real live, girls wear them, clothes. I bought things in peach and yellow and lavender and pink. I bought things with keyhole necklines and lace trim and layers. I bought a new handbag for the first time since 1999 (don't you know by now I'm not kidding?)

I would have bought shoes, too, but I dropped one on my big toe and it hurt so bad that I swore off shoes for today. But I think that's ok, because I think I had decent taste in shoes all along.

I'm a brand new girl.