Monday I had spent the previous day moving all the winter clothes to the furthest corner of the wardrobe and inspecting my summer clothes. Spring brings new challenges to our self esteem in the realisation that our bodies are a year older. Where did those bingo arms come from? How did my mother’s cellulite suddenly appear on my thighs? To add to the mix, brilliant sunshine shows off the newest grey highlights kindly provided by nature and children that has been hidden under a beanie for months.
Tuesday is the day our writing group meets, also the third day in a row over 20 degrees C. As I placed my bag on the floor II caught a glimpse of my ‘lizard leg’s and scrabbled around for a tube of hand cream to rub on. While under the table I noticed two sets of toes flashed fresh nail polish and that everyone was wearing sandals.
Summer clothes create their own dilemmas. Nearly all my friends admit to owning black one piece bathers for public beach displays. What about Melbourne Cup Day? Can you get away with wearing your orthopaedic shoes with a new dress with spaghetti straps? In the clothes shops I find myself perusing safe flowery crimplene – I have to slap myself soundly and quickly move away before anyone I know sees me.