Bag Lady

Winter has set in and thus, so has my usual form of hibernation. You know the routine...any time the weather dips below 60 degrees I find any excuse in the book to stay inside...in sweats...or pajamas...and curl up next to whatever heat source I can find. I'm a Bunce and that's what we DO in winter. We hibernate. The part of me that likes...I dunno...doing stuff...shrivels up like a prune and crawls into the cracks in the radiator of the universe. And this is normal. I basically hide, like a hermit or the Unibomber, until April.

And this year's no different...but I have noticed myself taking it to an all new level of...bag lady.

While I do normally don sweats and layers in winter, this winter I have started to resemble the lady who pushes the grocery cart near the Safeway and if you get hear her she tells you to "go on 'bout your biznusss."

Let me paint this little picture for you. I have always liked collecting old sweatshirts and pajama pants, washed so that they're super soft and easy to sleep in. I had just previously had standards as to where and when I would wear said sweats and pajama pants. This year, not so much.

This year I have stepped up my game.

You see, last year my grandmother, yes I said grandmother, received a pair of sweatpants for Christmas. They were of the type you usually see grandmothers wear- tapered at the ankle, elastic waist with "room to move," and kind of a stonewashed look to them (if that makes any sense). Any hoot, they didn't fit her. And somehow, I ended up with them. And I wear them. A lot. Like every night when I get home from work. They're warm, they're comfy, and they're straight out of an episode of Full House.

So there's that.

Then there's my "slippers." You see, I use this term loosely. If by slippers you mean slip on fake ankle uggs that are on their fourth year, then yes, I wear slippers. Mind you, those slippers are often (always) paired with the fluffy socks that come in many different colors and styles that you can get in a bunch at WalMart for three for a dollar.

Are you starting to get a mental picture yet? Let me elaborate. In an effort to wear a perfect hybrid of warmth, comfort and UGLY, I also have found myself wearing the top to Mondo's long john's from when he was in high school that he used to go snowboarding in. How I stumbled upon this article of clothing is beyond me but somehow, as if some stroke of fate, it found it's way onto my body and thus, in my lounge-wear repertoire.

So, so far we have my grandmother's sweats, four-year old "slippers" paired with fluffy multi-colored striped socks and a drab grey top to an old pair of mens long johns. Got it? Because I am about to blow your mind.

Now for the grand finale of Bag Lady. The Robe.

My Mom has always worn a long fleece robe for as long as I can remember. And you know that saying, "girls always turn into their Mothers?" Well gosh darn it, it's true!

I too, have a long fleece robe. In fact, my Mom bought it for me. It's baby pink. PINK. I don't even like pink. But this robe? It was MADE to be the icing to my lounge-wear cake. It's long, it's fluffy, it's not flattering (especially when I'm bra-less...hello mosquito bites!) and it's UGLY. But it wraps my butterfly up in a perfect little ugly cocoon of glory.

And yes, all of this is embarrassing. And it is evidence that I have reached an all-time low. I also realize I am playing with fire in a marriage where I expect my other half to still think I'm "pretty." Because there is NOTHING pretty about this outfit. Add to it the fact that I recently cut off my hair and sometimes resemble a Hanson brother if it's not styled properly, I am truly risking wife abandonment, and it'd be warranted.

But the real risk is TRULY being mistaken for a Bag Lady. Because I realized one morning, very early, while I was walking Snoop, that I had somehow ended up OUTSIDE...in PUBLIC...in this outfit. I must've REALLY needed coffee because I hadn't even put on a coat or real shoes. Instead I was parading around my block in the outfit. All I needed was a shopping cart filled with miscellaneous items, a rolled up blanket and hunched shoulders.

Upon re-entry into the "safe zone" ( also known as my house) I sat down and had a Come to Jesus moment.

"Bethany...look at yourself. Look what you're wearing. The only thing missing is hair rollers and a cigarette. You've been wearing this outfit at home for three days. How have we sunk this low?"

There's really no explanation. No excuse. It's cold dammit. And my ugly lounge-wear is comfortable. Soft as a baby's bottom. It may have soy sauce stains and Benjamin hair all over it but it's COLD. And I am getting OLD. I mean for God's sake, there's a POLAR VORTEX out there, people! Right? Oh that was a while ago? Even so! It happened!

I digress. And submit myself to bag lady status for at least another 2 or 3 months. So if you'll excuse me, I need to go change. Into my lounge wear. And walk the dog.