I trust my sister's taste in clothes without question. She has a near perfect eye for proportion and fit. She sold better mens suits for years and worked as a personal shopper for a select few. She's also a multiple-breed world champion horse judge as a youth, plus won every major stock show around. She's still an active judge and can look at a steer, a donkey, a chicken, a horse or a kitchen chair and tell you whether the proportions are right. She is not, however, much of a fashionista - she knows what one's flaws are and dresses people to accent what they got and hide what needs hidden. She's not going to suggest the latest if it isn't going to look good. She's never steered me wrong (so far).
And she took me shopping for reunion garb this week. I'm wearing skinny-legged black jeans. She assures me that they are stunning. I told her I haven't worn skinny-legged pants since 1983. She tells me that these pants do things for my legs that exercise can't.
So, while I'm keeping the pashmina, the other stuff - a pair of jeans and a shirt that tries to hard - that I bought are going back to the store today. She's never let me down before - I'm skeptical, but trusting.
Exercise today was a faux-row plus some outdoor walking, as today was a nice enough day. After work I'm going to my water aerobics class (if they have it). Then it's home to hillbilly haven to leftovers for Bick and whatever I can scrape together without cooking. So much for the meal plan.
Bick leaves in the morning for the family wedding in Houston, so I'll be on my own til Sunday. I'm going to get a massage, I think.
Take good care of yourself. Be kind to others. Get leggy.