On the Kind of Clothes that You Can't Really Wear

With a cupboard that's almost full to bursting, I'd thought that I'd be ready to dress for every occasion. Faced with the agelong question of having nothing to wear despite clawing through a mountain of garment that rests piled up from the darkest corners of my wardrobe, I was rather unpleasantly surprised, offended even, when the fact that my clothed arsenal isn't supplied with attire to kill every social appearance forced itself onto my defeated obstinacy.

Skimpy, body-hugging, attire in which the socialite goes clubbing or bar-hopping in-- this, I lack. Am I embarrassed by my light coloured collection of laces and frills? Never. A mini bodyfit dress that sparkles and reveals the bottom of my panties is just not something I'd waste money on, or could squeeze into.

Now, before anyone starts to think that I'm desperate enough to grind against some random, sweaty, drunk stranger on the dance floor at 2AM in hopes that that same intoxicated animal would turn out to be a prince, I better explain myself: I need nightlife-worthy garment for a performance next Wednesday.

Somehow, my explanation only served to imply that I am now working as a stripper on Wednesdays.

We know that isn't true, for who would like to see this lump of inactive meat on a stage, naked?

The more I explain myself, the worse this is becoming. Yet, I'm supposed to "have a way with words". I think even words have now abandoned me.

To state it simply: I am in involved in a theatrical production next Wednesday in which I play a character who is having a drink at the bar with her three friends. Hence why I am despondent, that I own not the inappropriate outfits young girls love to wear.

What does this say about me as an adult? That I am not, and never will be. Even if I do one day get led astray by my alcoholic contemporaries to go bar hopping, or clubbing, I will wear my pastel coloured skirts, and bunny-ear collared shirts.

I doubt it's where I belong. Besides, I'm actually quite proud of my closet of useless clothes that's not meant for the everyday.