Day 28 - Green Shorts

I have a lot of legitimate excuses to why my blogging has been sketchy lately.  But the hard core reason is that I feel vulnerable and don't want to be exposed.  I don't want to reflect on why things are the way they are.  I don't want to think about how I need to change.  I don't want to be honest about my choices.  I don't want.

So tonight I will tell you a story about green polyester shorts.  Kiwi green Bermuda shorts with ridges down the front of each leg.  My mothers shorts.  The ones that she loved and wore for way too long. The ones that in the end had to be held together by pins.  The ones that my dad had to dig out of the dirty clothes basket when she wasn't looking and put in the burn barrel. 

Those shorts started out fashionable.  My mother would never be too trendy, but she was always conservative with a splash.  So those shorts started out being on the edge for conservative fashion.  They probably had a really cute top that matched and in the beginning that was always worn with them.  An outfit.  Somewhere along the way the top disappeared.  The shorts remained past fashionable where they simply became just comfortable and were only worn around the house out of the view of non-family, but worn often. Over time we began to refer to them as the uniform

Through the years there would be many more uniforms but none of them stood out as much as the green shorts. 

That's why you might see me at Albertson's with gray yoga Bermudas, a brown top, pink sweatshirt and Birkenstocks.  It may not look normal to you.  You may start a discussion about an intervention.  But its my roots people.  It's just my uniform.