Clothes are complicated. For me it's the spending money on them which my mother finds extremely therapeutic and I find disgusting. Every Christmas it's different, a size too big because she admits she'll grow in width or two sizes smaller than her current because she's bought a new gym membership. One person commented that they wear black when they feel fat, or do so that they don't. The originator, though, claimed that running around naked was much more freeing and I'd have to agree. A wonderful woman named Dalena told me once after she read Women Who Run with the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. She said that it made her start her Fairy Garden outside, and take walks that lasted longer than an hour. Wondering what could have possibly motivated my friend I read it. I loved it. I don't believe it. Because of so much in my life that has happened to tell me women shouldn't jiggle or squirm but sit with their perfectly cellulite free legs crossed I started wondering: am I even a woman? 

I don't believe myself to be. As far as the standards of what I believe the originator of today's argument meant to be the clothing trap. The clothing standard. To wear skinny jeans because flares finally retired to the back racks. 

The hardest thing to handle that I attribute to my disorder is the order of the world: the idea that people can be starving and small amounts of privilege could save them but even though we learned as young children to share no one's giving. That, I believe, started when sharing was contrasted with germs and being scared of them. One bump on my lip and I've been with the same person for months on end, I believe it to be herpes simply because of my tendency toward overreactions. I watch a movie made the year I was born about Bipolar disorder and there were four lives followed throughout the film, all who'd lived with the illness or gift (but mostly portrayed as illness) for decades. The documentary was supposed to be uplifting, but their word choice and degrading camera angles of a woman going on about the offenses made to her while getting her hair done made me push pause. 

Everyone has to process. I say wear whatever you want. Forget, for a moment, about neighborly conduct.