blurple
It's kind of a mix of blue and purple.
My eyes see differently than other's, as I've had a red/green color deficiency all my life. It was apparent early on, and my mother and I used to have long arguements over what T-shirt matched the navy blue sweat pants that I was wearing to school that day. Second grade can be a tough time for a kid. But, after a few months of bickering every morning over whether the shirt in question actually blue or purple, she grew tired and allowed me to dress in whatever ragamuffin combination I wanted to wear. I can't remember ever being made fun of because my shirt didn't match.
This, of course, has lead to a disaster of tastes as an adult. What's more awful is that I can't really hide behind my genetic defect any longer, since I long ago learned to tell the difference between violet and indigo; even though my indigo and your indigo are respectfully different. It has now been too long burned into my psyche and I don't really care if my green pants (I really think that they're gray) do not match my navy and gray sweater. It doesn't matter to me. To make this painfully clear to everyone around me I accompany this outfit with brown shoes and a black belt.
That'll teach them.
heh. At least I no longer wear sweatpants. No, I prefer nice cottony pajama bottoms or a plain pair of black scrubs. Light and Comfy is truly, where it's at. And when I'm lounging around the house in my pj's and long sleeve SpongeBob T-shirt, I feel happy. It's like this odd sense of dress is sort of a moniker of mine, a signature if you will.
-d.
My eyes see differently than other's, as I've had a red/green color deficiency all my life. It was apparent early on, and my mother and I used to have long arguements over what T-shirt matched the navy blue sweat pants that I was wearing to school that day. Second grade can be a tough time for a kid. But, after a few months of bickering every morning over whether the shirt in question actually blue or purple, she grew tired and allowed me to dress in whatever ragamuffin combination I wanted to wear. I can't remember ever being made fun of because my shirt didn't match.
This, of course, has lead to a disaster of tastes as an adult. What's more awful is that I can't really hide behind my genetic defect any longer, since I long ago learned to tell the difference between violet and indigo; even though my indigo and your indigo are respectfully different. It has now been too long burned into my psyche and I don't really care if my green pants (I really think that they're gray) do not match my navy and gray sweater. It doesn't matter to me. To make this painfully clear to everyone around me I accompany this outfit with brown shoes and a black belt.
That'll teach them.
heh. At least I no longer wear sweatpants. No, I prefer nice cottony pajama bottoms or a plain pair of black scrubs. Light and Comfy is truly, where it's at. And when I'm lounging around the house in my pj's and long sleeve SpongeBob T-shirt, I feel happy. It's like this odd sense of dress is sort of a moniker of mine, a signature if you will.
-d.
posted by taliendo at
2:02 PM
2 Comments:
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hey, i refuse to spend an evening at home wearing normal clothes. if i'm going to be at home for any amount of time longer than, oh, an hour, it's pajama bottoms and a tank top or sweatshirt all the way!
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