When do you really become an adult? Is it when you get your first real job? Sign your first least? Finally rent a car? Never? Personally, I’ll know I’m there when I master dressing appropriately for the weather.
I don’t know why it’s so hard to dress for the weather, especially when I have it at the tips of my fingers 24/7 in exact degrees. I think part of the problem stems from the fact that these forecasts come in numbers and not instructions (“heaviest coat” “second heaviest coat” “snow boots” “regular boots.”) Should I dip into my precious and limited supply of cozy wool socks, or save them for future emergencies? The weather app can’t chime in on these difficult judgment calls.
But winter decisions are a cakewalk compared to the rest of the year, when the weather is actually variable. My persistent inability to clothe myself is a large part of the reason why spring is my least favorite season. For one thing, the physical transition from winter to spring is utterly graceless: just when you’re at your fattest and palest, start taking off your clothes! Add to that the fact that I’m alternately sweating and freezing, no matter what I wear or what the weather forecast says, and I can’t see why anyone likes spring.
Packing for trips is often a disaster. I can’t even get one day right, so imagine what happens when I have to project a week into the future. We’re going to florida, why would I need a sweater? Wrong. By now, I’ve learned that you always bring a sweater. But not, like, only sweaters. Once, I forgot my towel on a trip to Germany in December and had to dry myself with my scarf. It was so miserable I only showered once the whole trip. I’ve also packed primarily dresses and forgotten to pack underwear entirely… on more than one occasion.
Getting dressed: The thing I’ve done at least once a day, every day, for 20 years and still haven’t mastered. I’m just grateful that in that same amount of time I’ve achieved a higher level of proficiency at wiping my ass.
I used to think this struggle might just be a me thing–a consequence of my ill-advised skater phase or my parents letting me run around naked too much as a toddler–but I’ve recently come to realize that many of my friends share my struggle. Okay, at least one of them does.
