I got my box of StitchFix clothing this week, a week in which I have neither the time nor the social life to justify trying on these fancy outfits. That said, let’s look in June’s box, shall we? You know you want to.
The fine folks at Lilo and Stitch or whomever sent me a top and shorts this time, which is lovely because they don’t ever seem to send me, you know, an outfit. Also, I am 78 years old with my “outfit.” “That’s a cute outfit, honey. Better than those bluuuuuuue jeans you usually wear! Let’s watch our program now on Channel 12.”
I have no idea who I was just being right then. I was trying to sound old and I don’t even know if I did. It’s Monday night as I write this because these StitchFix pieces that I write for my internet weblog are very time-consuming and I don’t dare try to do it all in the a.m.
Do you recall back when we actually watched, for example, Channel 12, right before your show would come on the local guy would say, “It’s 8 o’clock.”
Dun-dun-dun-DUNDUNDUN! It’s the story. Of a lovely lady…
Do you recall that?
Anyway, back to how time-consuming these CrossStitch posts are. Back to our regular kvetch.
First, see, you have to put on all the outfits (“outfits”) and then you have to photograph yourself because you live alone and no one loves you.
Then you have to upload the photos of you in the outfits (“outfits”) that don’t make you look like Hoss from Bonanza, and THEN you have to create little polls for each outfit (“outfit”), listing the price so everyone can say, “I’d never spend that much on an OUTFIT, JOOOOON. You can go to Marshall’s and get that OUTFIT for 40 cents.”
Let’s stop the jibber-jabber and vote, shall we? It’s 8 o’clock.
I took this first picture, I had my picture made, in the privacy of my kitchen. But the lighting in the kitchen is stupid, with the track lighting SCREAMING DOWN at me like I’m beaming up. So I got the bright idea to go outside and hang my phone from the window box.
Note my casual, “Oh, are you making my picture” look, like I don’t live alone and unloved and didn’t set this whole thing up myself. “Oh, would you look at that! A photographer!”
The fine folks at a Stitch in Time sent me a denim jacket, for those notoriously chilly nights in the South.
Next up? A dress. I haven’t even seen another human since February, but OK. A dress would hit the old spot. Maybe I can have tea parties with myself and propose to me and marry self in this dress during my simple ceremony. With self.
Finally, the folks who are fine at Fixident sent me a jumpsuit, in case I wish to start working on automobiles. Greased lightning, go greased lightning.
I used to be so skinny. I had this straight up-and-down sort of a figure, not unlike a rectangle or Gumby. Now I’m all zaftig and I curve curve curve everywhere and I suppose I’m supposed to hate it but really I’m kind of all, yeah. Lookit Ma Kettle, over here, rockin’ out with her pockets out.
I apologize for not having the requisite hating of self that white American women seem obligated to have.
And that sums up m’BitchFix for this month. Do vote early and often and I shall take your opinions under consideration.