by Lisa

I may need to go clothes shopping this fall. For some women, seasonal shopping happens every year.  I shop every now and then, for fun.  The same clothes have fit for fifteen years or more.

This summer, I have worked hard at adding curves.  Miles on the bike rather than in the car, finishing the whole damned sandwich, and a beer now and then have added up to ten more pounds than I had this spring.

Blessed goddess, the girly pounds have landed right where I had hoped they would…but now, my pants pinch.  Sweaters are snug.  My favorite tank-tops are no longer appropriate outer-wear.

Now, I have to ask myself, what is my style at forty?  Given the loss of a handful of essentials that have lasted for so long, what will replace my perfect little black dress?  It came from an estate sale in 1998, with a tag from 1968.  Macy’s doesn’t carry that designer any more.

The mall, including but least of all Macy’s for some reason, scares me silly unless I’m there with a big budget and shoes on the brain, or Olga’s Kitchen as my only destination.  I’ll still cruise my beloved thrift shops, but I need to replace a few staples sooner than the usual cruising speed allows.

So, to the mall I must go before the weather turns colder.  My jeans aren’t comfy, and I seem to have worn holes in the elbows of most of those suddenly va-va-voom sweaters.  Somehow, my rounder frame also makes the sleeves of shirts too short, too.  Who knew?

To accept shopping, I must ALWAYS have an event in mind.  This fall, I will just pretend to shop for being a fabulously dressed grown-up.

That, joyfully, could mean anything.