Wednesday, 28 April 2010

I hope not anyway

“You’re not being serious, are you?”


“You cannot leave the house looking like that”.

My mother was not telling me that my skirt was too short or that my top was too low. Nor was she telling me that my shoes were not suitable for the weather. My mother was telling me that I didn't look good enough for the run I was about to do.

I suppose I looked as though I was working the ‘homeless/grunge chic’ look: an old pair of black leggings, my brothers ancient (and therefore oversized) grey track jumper, red tartan socks, battered old running trainers and a black head-band.

The thing is, I’m not some A-list celebrity: It doesn’t really matter what I wear when I’m out for a jog. I’m not going to end up on the front of some trashy magazine because I sweated while wearing Stella McCartney for Adidas or Scarlett Johansson for Reebok.

“But people might see you.”

At this point in the conversation it was 7.09AM, the only people that might see me at this time of day looking so, oh how should I put this…ravishing…would be: dog walkers (probably wearing pyjama bottoms and a Barbour jacket while loosely holding their pet’s excrement); those doing the walk of shame (therefore wearing their clothes from the night before, that spent a few hours lying crumpled on a floor, and thus avoiding all eye contact); and business folk on their way to the office (of course they’ll be dressed sharp and dapper but they wont have had their morning coffee yet, so are still half asleep: they’re not alert and wont be paying attention to anything, let alone me wizzing by).

So really, Mother Dearest, while I appreciate that you want me to look my best at all times in case I happen to meet my future husband, its not going to happen on a run. I hope not anyway.

No comments:

Post a Comment