I am loath to admit that much of my wardrobe comes from the Wal-Mart active wear department these days. It has come to that. Unthinkable for a gal who in her 20s once ate at the happy hour buffet for an entire month so that she could spend her entire grocery budget on a pair of Joan & David boots.
The reason I end up buying so many of the things I wear at Wal-Mart is simple: I am there. Everyday I am there. I have a cart. I throw it in the cart. I take it home. I wear it. End of story.
This morning, after I donned a brand new pair of black Danskin “athletic” pants and a matching black long-sleeved top with blue and white stripes down the sleeves I was thinking that I looked as though I could pass for a person who actually works out, a person who actually deserves to be wearing so-called athletic wear. I was thinking that cheap clothes are not THAT bad. Until this:
Sean: Hey Mom! I like your diving suit!
Antique Mommy: My what?
Sean: Are you going diving with Shamu?
I looked at myself in the mirror. I did look like I was going diving with Shamu.
Perhaps I need to rethink my Wal-Mart wardrobe.