My daughter and I are both night owls. I used to be a solid eight hour per night sleeper, but that pattern has long since disappeared. I blame the almost year long bout with steroids a few years ago for permanently messing up my internal clock.
My daughter on the other hand does get her eight hours, it just so happens that she starts her sleep a whole lot later than I ever did. In the morning when she’s still out for the count, I can quietly catch up on whatever interests me on my iPad. Glancing over at her as she sleeps puts a smile on my face, and makes me feel far less alone.
At this moment she’s online window shopping for dresses, showing me her favourites. Which to me is quite comical given that I would practically have to bribe her to wear a dress when she was young, and now she declares that given the option she’d prefer to wear nothing but.
It’s quite an awakening to realize that I have no idea what the latest trends are. I don’t watch television, don’t get any magazines and not doing any online clothes shopping these days. My wardrobe mission these days is clean clothes that are comfortable to wear in bed. It would be easy to stay in pajamas all day, yet to me that would be a sign that I’ve given up.
We have had a good giggle tonight about how unaware I’ve become of how women are dressing these days. She’s educated me on the finer points of ombre hair, the return of wide leg pants, hair bows and horizontal stripes (flashbacks of my eighties wardrobe!)
As the weather improves, a few friends have expressed offers to take me out for walks. They walk, they push, I sit and enjoy the ride. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal for me.
I suppose it doesn’t really matter whether what I’m wearing is in style if we go out. Seated, I’m undoubtedly going to look a bit rumpled anyway. Experience has taught me that in a wheelchair most people are either looking away, or see just the chair and oxygen tubes. I wonder if anyone would even notice if I wore something completely inappropriate? I have half a mind to slip on a pair of stilettos when I’m out next to let people wonder how I would even get in and out of a wheelchair wearing them.
You might remember from a previous post that I’d given away all my work clothes, along with them went special occasion attire that would have been worn to openings of my photo exhibits, parties and other places that dictated the donning of something a cut about the casual.
When sorting my things out for donation with my best friend a few weeks ago, she gently reminded me that I’ll need to hold back one special occasion outfit. It’s not black (and I hope anyone in attendance on that occasion isn’t wearing black either), and as a final touch – I held back the highest pair of heels I own from the donation pile.
I may be disabled, but when I say goodbye I want to look as if I danced my way out the door. In my head, I will have.
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