Why I Stay Home

I have another one of those social thingies to go to tonight. I was
all hot-to-trot when I first heard about it, drinks at an Irish pub
downtown, 6-8pm. I planned the 'when shall I wash my hair, do my nails'
around it--all the girly stuff that makes going out an anticipatory
blowout. But now that the 'witching hour is drawing nigh, I'm all--eh,
meh, and bleh.

Because I would analyze the worm out of the wormwood, and because I
really do see this as Getting In The Way of My Life, I'm ready to do
some hard thinking-through. See if any of this sounds familiar to
you--and if so, are there any ways I can outwit myself?

  • Going out means getting dressed.
  • Getting dressed means selecting from my wardrobe.
  • Selecting from my wardrobe means confronting that fact that nothing fits--and if it does, it looks like shit.

which means....

  • Confronting the ways in which my body has changed, much to my horror and dismay

which means....

  • Confronting that I'm older, aging, past the halfway mark, over the hill, out of the running--

oooops. Out of the running: that resonates. Clangs, in fact, and
starts me thinking about what it was that I used to like about going
out:

  • Picking a terrific outfit that would be the perfect costume (yes, as in theatre) for who I was going to be that night.
  • Loving the look in the mirror. Not as in some narcissistic venture but as in, "Damn I look good!"
  • Making my entrance, playing my character, seeing what kind of applause I would score.
  • And maybe, if I was interested, scoring.

That's pretty much gone for me now. I'm just not really interested,
and I don't have the goods to venture on the stage as a leading lady
any more. So what I'm left with when I go out is--what? And is this a
good or a bad thing?

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