Getting dressed this morning wasn’t fun. First of all there’s the issue of the weather changing. It’s chilly in the morning, and today I’ll be spending half an hour on the playground supervising the little cherubs, so I don’t want to start my day cold. Later on, though, it heats up. I don’t want to spend my afternoon melting either.

The obvious solution? Layers, of course. Except when you reach a certain size there are only so many layers you’re willing to encase yourself in. Still, I headed to my closet with the idea that I would be dressing in layers today. First I needed a base. Skirt? No, not for a playground duty morning. Pants it is. Hmmm, the dress pants are all too tight, the capris are all in the wash, and the season has passed for the brightly colored summer pants.

That leaves jeans and leggings. Jeans are usually a Friday thing, but these are nice jeans, in a dark wash with no extra stitching and a flat front. I could wear them on a Monday. On they go, along with a long coral top. I look in the mirror and am horrified. I look awful. It’s the jeans. I look like a sausage about to explode out of its denim casing. I can’t do it.

Off go the jeans, and on go the leggings. The ones I’ve been wearing off and on all weekend. Yesterday I went to the theater in them with a big white button-down shirt over the top and ballet flats. I also went to brunch in them with a big, bright orange long sleeved t-shirt and ankle boots. I love them. They’re comfortable.

As far as looks? Well, let’s put it this way, my shirt is really long. It has to be. Nobody wants to see what’s under it, or if they do, they would regret it if they actually got their wish. It’s not pretty.

I feel like I have slipped over the line into the territory where nothing looks good, but really that’s not true. I looked cute at brunch. I looked good at the theater too. Maybe instead of giving up on fashion, I should just do my laundry.