Brown, or, This is Terrible

It was time today to bring out my summer things from the back of the closet and put a lot of heavy winter clothes away. I dumped out everything from my drawers and did a big clothing sort on the floor. Slowly, a disturbing pattern began to emerge. Everything that was ugly, worn out, misshapen, pilled, faded or otherwise wholly unwearable unless you're changing the oil in the car was brown. Light brown, dark brown, olive green brown, off brown, dirty tea cup brown. This means that I have been wearing this brown clothing all winter to the point of exhaustion, and it is so disheveled that I can no longer stand the sight of it. I used to have all cute clothes. This is not the example I need to be setting. In walks Emma.

"What is this?" she asks, swirling her tiny pointer finger at the mess on the floor. "Who did this?"

"I made this mess," I said. "These are Mommy's clothes."

She stared. First at the clothes, then at me. She made a face.

"I don't like this," she remarked, still swirling. "I don't like this at all." She paused. "This is a big ugly mess."

"Yes, Emma. It is."

More staring.

"Put this in the trash." And with that, she walked off in search of her twin.

When the two year old knows that your clothes are ugly, it's time to move on. I bought a pink lipstick today, wore a red tank top under my standard black t-shirt, and felt better immediately.