My wife sometimes asks me to change into other “outfits,” and I have to remind her that I’m a dude. Dudes don’t wear outfits. I had that same conversation with my mom when I was a kid. Still, these conversations take place and I’m usually asked to change into something less embarrassing before we leave for church.
My wife claims that I have no matching skills. I have to remind her that I have mad matching skills. Mad. Matching. Skillz. If your skills reach a certain level of madness, you get to use the ‘z’ in skillz. To give an example of this impressive skill, I have a pair of plaid baby blue shorts I purchased for five bucks at Walmart. Normally, I would never wear a wuss color like that, but I’ll make an exception if it’s cheap.
When I complete my “outfit,” I’ll wear a plaid shirt, or even a plaid jacket with those shorts. I’m told that two different colors in plaid pattern don’t match. I have to respectfully disagree as plaid matches all other plaid. You just can’t mix plaid and paisley.
I don’t see the big deal. Who cares what I look like. I dress in the dark. I’ve even squeezed into one of my wife’s shirts once. That’s one of the hazards of dressing in the dark. Sometimes people stare at me, but I just assume that they are stunned by my good looks. Nothing says attractive like the five day shadow that looks identical to an awkward fifteen year old’s six month shadow.
Some people just rock the wispy chemo beard look. Stunning.
(Above CC image courtesy of Jorge Elias on Flickr).