I have not written for a few days because I have been miserable with a throat infection. At first I thought it was a cold, but when it got worse instead of better and my voice went away, I saw my doctor and he declared it an infection. So it’s been a lot of sleeping, absolutely no talking, and a dose of antibiotics and codine every eight hours for the last two days.
Sundays are my usual days for dressing, but this Sunday seemed like a poor candidate for it. My fevers broke, but my throat is still miserable and I’m still stuffy and coughing. Was I really in the mood for putting forth the effort to dress feminine? I figured I’d just veg out on the couch all day and watch TV.
But darned if, the minute my wife and kids left, I wasn’t compelled to get off the couch and at least “get comfortable.” And that’s how I was thinking about it — not making myself pretty or being glamorous, but simply getting comfortable. I didn’t have the energy for makeup or control-top pantyhose, but gosh darnit, putting on even a soft pink top and a frumpy denim skirt I’d picked up for four bucks on clearance (with pockets! I mean, what was I even thinking when I bought it?) just somehow made me feel better. I also went to far as to paint my nails — nails are compulsory, you see — and spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon recuperating in comfort.
The family is back home now; the nails are unpolished and the skirt’s been traded for jeans. But I guess I learned something about myself today: this isn’t just something I do when I’m feeling good. Healthy or sick, good mood or bad, dressing is inside me no matter what.