I’m a true advocate in the belief that we, as midlife women, should be comfortable not only in the skin that we’re in, but also in what we choose to swathe that skin. If I feel comfortable in a pair of baggy jeans, a two-sizes-too-large t-shirt and purple sneakers, so be it. That’s my midlife comfort level at the time. My body image issues are far less stress-inducing to me now than they were fifteen, ten or even five years ago.
That’s why it came as a surprise and self-disappointment to me when, this morning, I took one look at the outfit my husband chose to wear, smirked and said, “That shirt does not go with those shorts,” while wiggling my finger up and down in the direction of his body, indicating my utter distaste for his highly uncoordinated ensemble.
That wasn’t right.
What if he was comfortable in his selection? What if he liked that his pale blue t-shirt with the lime green design emblazoned on the front clashed horribly with his checkered shorts? Just because I’m not a fan of mixing eye-searing patterns doesn’t mean he isn’t opposed to testing the waters from time to time. Who was I to malign him and his fashion choices?
Well, as he pointed out, I’m his wife and, as a loving spouse, he believes it is my wifely duty to point out such faux pas.
It wasn’t that his manner of dress was so egregious as to cause me to file for divorce. The real problem was my reaction to what he was about to strut out of the house wearing. Get it? It was my problem, not his. My view was from my eyes only, not his.
He eventually changed the outfit because, as he said, “I want to look coordinated and good, not uncoordinated and stupid.” While my husband doesn’t normally look like he just stepped off the pages of GQ magazine, he is by no means a slouch in the clothing department. Today, he was dressing for his down time; his midlife comfort level. And I—the woman who has been known to schlep around the house with purple bedroom slippers, blue and white lounge pants, a Looney Tunes t-shirt and a black and white striped cardigan (all which, to the outside world, would lead one to believe I was a homeless woman)—wasn’t exactly in a position be judge and executioner.
Almost immediately, I apologized to my husband and surprised him with an impromptu speech about the dangers of judging, being a hypocritical jackass and my dismay at my actions. Since entering midlife, I’ve been on a mission to uplift, encourage and help women to feel good about themselves, and there I was perpetrating a fraud against my husband and his (gulp!) patterns. Oh, the humanity.
I can admit when I’m wrong, and I was wrong. My husband can wear whatever the hell he wants — stripes, polka dots, gingham, fleur de lis, paisley or whatever — and, if he’s feeling so empowered, he can wear them all at the same time!
So now I reassert my original position; it’s one that I’ll hold dear to my heart and remain steadfast in its truth:
We, as midlife women, should be comfortable not only in the skin that we’re in, but also in what we choose to swathe that skin. That goes for men, too.
Good points. I tend to criticize my husband’s attire, time to give that up!
My hubby was a good sport about it, but I had shamed myself. 🙁 It was time to remedy that.
Hi Valerie! This is a really good post. I seldom read “fashion” blogs but this one caught my eye. And then it proceeded to REALLY speak to me because I often do the same to my husband. I am very proud of the fact that I dress for my own comfort just about all the time. But my husband is more casual than even me and once in a while I catch myself saying, “you’re going to wear THAT?” And like you said, if the shoe fits for me, it ought to be the same for him. Thank you for putting that in such a clear way. I think I will go apologize to him right now!!! ~Kathy
I’m glad my words could be of help, Kathy. I felt bad about my instant reaction. I mean, it’s not like his outfit upset the earth’s rotation or anything… I sometimes read ‘fashion’ pieces, but rarely write them. This morning’s episode was my little wake-up call.
Funny, this just happened to me today. Hubby and I were heading to a sports bar to watch hockey, so yes casual wear. However, he chose his grubby old shorts. All I said was “boy we need to get you some new shorts. ” He agreed but didn’t change. I get it, it’s Sunday, sports bar and comfort day. That’s how you have to roll sometimes.
Laurie, I bet if we think hard on it, it happens more often than we care to admit. Sometimes its done with words, other times scathing looks! 😉 I’m going to curb that; hubby deserves it. 🙂
Hmmm. I’m tactful and all that, but sometimes it needs to be said. As in, “Honey, did you forget your chones?” Cuz they don’t think you can tell.
That’s true, Lynne…sometimes it really does need to be said! But hopefully not all the time. 😉