I found myself in my retirement sleeping in later than I cared to do, giving me a feeling that I had wasted half the day. To give myself a purpose to rise at a reasonable hour I started setting my Skype Spanish lessons for 0900 hours or thereabouts. Not wanting to look totally like a homeless person on Skype while I am talking to folks in Central and South America, I usually shower first, get dressed and then sit in front of the camera.
Señora once told me all I need to do is put on a nice shirt as no one is going to see my from the waist down. Well, I am not really willing to do that. Talk about your ugly American… One morning I was running a little late so I grabbed a pair of shorts hanging on the rocking chair next to our bed. I then reached into the closet and grabbed the first shirt I saw. I decided I liked the look, and I have been going with it occasionally ever since. Señora is of a differing opinion. I remind her of a fact that one of my brothers so pointedly pointed out to me, I have started my 8th decade. As such I have a right to wear such togs as well as to leave my car blinker on for mile after mile.
I do not wear this haberdasher’s nightmare when I am going most places, but I have worn it while walking the dog. But then the neighbors already think I am a little weird as I have a honey-do outfit reminiscent of an Arkie farmer that I don when the weather is on the cooler side. Señora does think that this ensemble is sexy, most likely because she knows I am fixin’ to go do them-thar chores. However, it is not something that is seen frequently in this suburban neighborhood described by a different brother as bourgeois. More commonly, when I wear this garb I top it off with a 30 year old straw hat that has holes in it big enough to put a mule’s ears through. I am trying to maximize the utility of the aforementioned hat.
As an illustration of a neighbor’s opinion, I was doing some yard work in the front when some new neighbors strolled by walking their dog. I could hear them admiring Señora’s ceramic flowers she had placed in one of the front flower beds. One of the newbies commented to the other that they could ask me about the flowers. The other replied, “Oh don’t bother, he is just working there.”
I’m too sexy for my shirt
Too sexy for my shirt
So sexy it hurts
And I’m too sexy for Milan
Too sexy for Milan
New York, and Japan
And I’m too sexy for your party
Too sexy for your party
No way I’m disco dancing
And so it goes it our private retirement villa…
I think one of the best things about being in our 70’s is that we no longer need to get all gussied up to step outside. It’s quite liberating.
Love it. In my 7th decade, I usually wear whatever I damn well please.