Week 43-to take one less decision out of our day.
Wake up this week was to wear the same clothes all week
My initially thought on listening to this week’s experiment was.. No!!
I quite like to think I have developed my own .. I use the term loosely.. ‘style’. I’ve always considered myself to be a tad individual, I’m more charity shop than designer brands, I prefer chunky flats to heels, I loosely follow trends but I’m not really a high street shopper and I am no slave to fashion. These days I am conscious however what may have once looked cute may now appear a little eccentric… I am yet to find my middle aged style but as long as you feel good in what your wearing surely you can’t go far wrong. Basically I am just trying to be the best me I can , not emulate anyone else. Sometimes in my imagination I concoct outfits that I consider appropriate attire for the day’s events…. although I’m never too far from my red wellies. I think people are like actors wearing clothes to suit the role they are playing… fitness gear-gym/jogging, suits in the office, smartness for wedding… I am always drawn to people who flaunt these rules and love them for it. So in some ways we are always wearing a uniform of some form or another. I remember in school my girlfriends and I would see what we could get away with without actually breaking the rules. It was just a bit of fun and part of growing up and exploring our individuality. My wise Mam turned a blind eye and loved me regardless what colour my hair was. I will never forget my biology teacher who had taken such a dislike to me, checking me before every lesson, and once sticking my head of spiky hair and kohled eyes under a cold water tap, and when I passed my ‘a’ level in her class and the boy who was more ‘ordinary’ failed she loudly exclaimed there must have been some mistake. How little did she know how much her nastiness spurred me on and to never judge a book by its cover.
By taking part in this experiment I worried if I wore the same thing everyday I would lose some of the pleasure I get in life and therefore loose a bit of me, a bit of confidence, and the bit of me that helps me deal with the outside world. My clothes and my home are ways of channelling some of the creativeness that flows inside my soul. I think its important to colour me happy, I felt invisible in a couple of jobs where I had to wear uniforms, that said it may have been down to the job, a checkout chick at Sainsbury's whilst funding my studies in Manchester kind of made me want to be invisible if I’m honest but now I am extra polite to people working on check outs and always try to think of something personal and kind to say during the transaction.
Once, after leaving my husband with a two year old in tow, I wouldn’t get out of bed in my parent’s spare room. I didn’t know how to get out of bed and I had lost nearly two stone in two weeks. I couldn’t even swallow a cup of tea my grief was so huge. My big Sis came in to talk to me, she sat on the bed and told me something that had helped her through a breakdown she had had many years before. She said, doesn’t matter how you’re feeling, get up, shower, pick out some nice clothes, put your face on. At the time I thought I would never be able to follow her advice but slowly it got better and her advice sunk in. I guess what she was saying is fake it ‘til you make it. Get up, make you count. I’ve had days since when the last thing I want to do it get in my car and drive to work and face people but I have followed her advice and when I get home that evening, I have reflected on the fact with the help of human interaction that day and having a purpose, it wasn’t so bad after all and if I had stayed in bed all day, I would have been worse by the evening. She herself is now facing some ruthless treatment for her illness and on those days I have called to see her she is still getting up, making the best of herself even if sometimes she surely can't feel like it.
We do this for ourselves not for anyone else. So Chris you said some of these experiments won’t suit everybody and this one isn’t for me. To me, this would be the opposite to waking up, it would be closing down and put me on autopilot for sure, so Chris for week 43 I am bowing out disgracefully in my clod hoppers as Mam calls them.