"You're not going out like that?" Nancy asked me.
We were headed to the Publix to buy our weekly supply of commestibles, and I was attired in my summer wardrobe: drawstring shorts, a stained t-shirt, brown rubber-soled clogs, and an old Panama Jack hat the color of a chain-smoker's lung (to protect my head from sunburn.) In fairness, I was intending to take off the hat.
I do not fully understand the cause of Nancy's concern. It is unlikely she is worried they will refuse to offer us service - in similar attire I've gone on shopping errands assuming that people will think I'm either so incredibly stinking rich I don't care how I look or else I'm deranged. Either way, I get speedy service. Maybe she's concerned that someone will snap a picture of me and I'll end up an internet sensation, like those photo galleries of actual customers who've chosen to go to the WalMart in zebra-print tank tops and thigh-high go-go boots. I doubt that though. Most likely what concerns her is what people will think of her for being with me.
There are people who love picking out clothes. For them, going shopping for their seasonal wardrobe is a delight and they can spend half an hour happily standing before their closests just thinking about what they will wear. I do not understand these people. During the school year, I wear an unvarying uniform, green shirt with the school logo and khaki pants. One of the draws for me coming to the school was that I wouldn't have to think about what to wear. Right now I'm typing this in black drawstring shorts a "spirit shirt" from my former high school (owing to a misprint, instead of "Stephenson," it reads "Stephensonson" so they gave them away for free) I'm just on the patio, so I'm not wearing shoes. It's early in the morning, so I don't have on my hat. I'm wearing a pair of slightly smeary reading glasses purchased at the Dollar Store and another pair hooked into the collar of my t-shirt.
Judge me if you will.