I wore my red dress to work today. After rolling out of bed thirty minutes late, walking the dog and showering, I needed a pick-me-up. I needed to wear something that said, “I’m awake!” even if it wasn’t feeling that way. I needed to face Monday with all the power that red offers even if I wasn’t in the mood.
I avoid red. I think it brings out the splotches in my face. I don’t think of myself as someone who wears red. Daring people wear red. Confident women wear red. I don’t claim either of those labels.
I didn’t buy this dress. I would never have even tried it on in a store. It is a hand-me-down from a friend. I can’t remember how long I’ve had it. Knowing that I removed its shoulder pads and wore it when I was pregnant are the two clues that it’s been in my closet for some time.
I have no idea if I’m supposed to dry clean this dress. I just toss it in the washer, throw it in the dryer and hang it up with the rest of my work clothes. Wash and wear.
So, even if the color isn’t me, the dress is. Dated. Practical. Low maintenance.
I’m aspiring to comfortable. One day, I won’t be self-conscious about wearing my secondhand red dress.