What Should I Wear Today?
I wear my heart on my sleeve and I’ve always wondered how that expression, came to be. My sleeve is sometimes long with large cuffs, sometimes blue, sometimes has dry ink or wet snot running down it. Perhaps a stain the dry cleaners (what is Martinizing anyway and can someone PLEASE explain why it costs three times as much to dry clean my slacks as it does the same slacks as a man?) cannot remove and if so, I get a little, colorful sticker placed around the hanger, announcing the inability to remove said stain.
My sleeves can be cotton, silk, spandex and linen, etc. When I wear linen, can you see that my heart worries about the fine lines appearing around my eyes? For example, can a stranger tell what’s in my heart at that moment and I fear aging? Or do they just see a wrinkled, linen sleeve? Do women who wear cotton sleeves have or had (once or twice) the opportunity to use them to absorb semen dribbling down their thighs after making love on a swing set at 2 am in the park? Thank God it’s dark at
Occasionally I roll my sleeves up to the elbow. Does that mean I only want you to know half of my heart and I am hiding the precarious part which folds up my deepest secrets? Sometimes I have no sleeves, does that mean I have no heart or does it simply mean for today, I am going to make a brave attempt to let as little emotion be revealed as possible? I think I will try this: sleeveless vs. sleeve – heartless vs. heart – emotionless vs. emotion, as an experiment, yes, a secret experiment. Oops, too late, I’ve just “sleeved” myself and divulged my plan.
It would never work anyway as my girlfriends know my heart. Nice try they would say, but your sleeve is snagged on your ex-boyfriends heart. But don’t worry, once we pull the red thread, it will unravel itself, not only until the snag is gone, but as women together, we continue to gently pull, and the thread un-loops itself enough times that your sleeve will no longer be caught, causing the same rippling and damage as the last blouse you loved so dearly did. The only piece left will be the red fluff reminding you that once you’ve cut the damaged sleeves off (and your best seamstress girlfriend sows the seams together), spring is here and you’re fucking glad that snag was there to begin with (even though you thought you could fix it by yourself, silly girl) because going sleeveless in spring is as wonderful and necessary as wearing sleeves again in the fall!
