Awkward in Clothing
I have been helping as a home healthcare person, for a 90 year old friend while he recovers from an injury.
I haven’t had much experience with mangoes. I have pealed one and I’m cutting bite sized pieces into a bowl, when I discover just how slippery they are. It jumps out of my hand and on to the floor. As I desperately grab for it in vain.
I wash it off thoroughly and my hand, with a careful grip and then finish my job. A half an hour later, I’m sitting in a chair and happen to notice something on my shirt. I discover pieces of mango. There are yellow streaks on my shirttail. I lift it to inspect, discovering that there are extensive yellow streaks on my white pants. I dial the internet to discover that mangoes indeed stain, but there are suggestions for the cure. DF will demonstrate her more effective technique cutting them to help me out next time.
I have been mostly naked for a very long time. This is my first kitchen duty dressed in years. Back in the textile days, I would have been concerned about my clothing and checked them, immediately. I hadn’t even noticed that it had grazed the clothing. My norm now, is to notice when things touch me, which is natural to do. I even had to think about taking off my shirt to wash out the stains on the shirt. My new norm of a lifestyle would not have any concerns about ruined clothing. That would be silly. My new norm would not have me messing up a perfectly good costume while doing chores.
I don’t do as well as for how to live in clothes anymore, obviously. It has been one thing to notice the difference when I put something on after being without something on. I notice the preference and then, can’t wait to get this uncomfortable useless thing off of my better outfit. This is different; I have become dysfunctional in clothing. I’ve forgotten aspects of how to wear them, which are second nature to most people.
I sit on the patio in the hot weather and it is uncomfortable with clothing on. At home it would be beautiful. The monsoon filled the air with large warm raindrops. I couldn’t step out and dance in it, because my clothing would get wet and stay that way, even if my modest friend would not be shocked by my behavior. I wash dishes at the sink and get splashed and soaked, instead of just feeling it and letting it go. I do have a convenient piece of cloth to dry my hands with, because nobody seems to notice if I’m wet in dark pants. My waist is shrinking and my pants are falling loose, I have to pull them up and adjust them often, but I do have a convenient place to place my smart phone, whose weight pulls them down again.
I do understand what a waste it is to be about a house dressed. I have a pile of clothing to be cleaned now that proves it. The old textile norms just don’t make sense. It is all very awkward.