The perils of women’s summer clothing.

I have no idea how all women except me manage to remain clothed and look effortless about it in the summer.

Socks fall down around my ankles within two steps. Strappy tops’ straps dangle about my elbows as soon as I let go of them unless I staple them to my bra straps (which only stay on because they dig in like billy-o). Trousers fall off within minutes, and only slightly *less* immediately if I cinch them so tight with a belt that they make me feel sick. Court shoes fall off immediately or are agony. There is no middle ground. Shoes with a strap that goes around the back of the heel slip off the MINUTE I stand up and move my feet. Shoes with straps anywhere else turn my feet into a giant bleeding blister festival within five steps. Scarves plaster themselves across my face and embed themselves in my lipstick as soon as a tiny zephyr whispers towards me. Anything that ties up comes undone, and anything with press studs leaves me weeping in the loos with one of my nails bent back at the sort of angle that makes me whimper “MOTHER!”

It seems I was destined to drift through life in a collection of brightly coloured muumuus with no undercrackers.

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About chiller

Rachel Coldbreath spent 20 years working internationally as a technical specialist on large data collections for law firms, before becoming disabled. She blogs on a variety of topics from the news and politics to gardening and how very annoying it is, being disabled. Habits include drilling holes about 1mm away from where they ought to be, and embarking with great enthusiasm on tasks for which she is neither physically nor intellectually equipped.
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5 Responses to The perils of women’s summer clothing.

  1. Leek says:

    Socks in THIS summer?

  2. Sue Paraszczuk says:

    Being 63 means I’m finally free from the tyranny of clothing. No, I don’t walk around naked! I just wear the most comfortable stuff and don’t give a shit what I look like to anyone else because…well why should I? But in the past? Well, I have to sympathise with you since I also had the same kind of body that refused to allow clothes to sit easily upon it and retain their crisp, pristine appearance or stay where they were supposed to, like your straps etc. White tops, once placed upon my rebel form would miraculously become magnets for highly coloured stains within seconds and trousers, lovingly pressed would contort themselves into screwed up dishrags as soon as I moved a muscle. And shoes? Well, anything with a heel higher than 0.1 inches seemed intent on launching me headlong into space. If only onesies had been invented back then….preferably with feet.

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