There are a number of errands on tomorrow's agenda, for me to run - to the Primary Care Physician's office and then the Dermatologist, the shoe store (to look for peep-toe ballerinas) and the air pollution inspection station. And the better half has already picked out my outfit...a pair of gray stirrups and a turtleneck, one of several outfits which come to me "with a history." Or maybe more appropriately, a "her-story." They formerly were my mother's, but no longer fit her when she went into the nursing home.
Since they were still in great condition, the better half put them in my closet, along with some of Mother's turtleneck blouses, rather than the charity box we had from our time cleaning out and selling her house, though I didn't know at the time. And if I had, probably I wouldn't have agreed to it. But recently she's begun to improve my appearance by integrating Mom's outfits into my everyday wardrobe.
I cheerfully admit that they're comfortable, fit well and look very feminine. Mom is thrilled to see that I'm now wearing her old clothes on a regular basis - she enjoys seeing them again, even though they don't fit her any longer. And she thinks it's a shame that none of the dresses she owned which would have fit me, survived the house cleaning when we sold her place, She'd have loved for me to be wearing them... But the better half hinted that, if they'd actually survived, by now I'd be wearing them three or four days a week!
It's an unusual feeling to recognize that my newest pants outfits, ones that the better half not only approves of but insists I wear two or three days a week, are all hand-me-downs from Mom. Back in the day, I envied her for wearing her cute stirrup outfits (yes, including ballerinas) for her daily activities. Now, I just have to look in the mirror, to see myself wearing them (with my new ballerinas, since hers were too small). Every time I notice my reflection in shop windows and glass doors, I'm reminded that I now wear those very same outfits that I once envied Mom for wearing!
It's easy to predict what I'll be wearing for my doctor appointments tomorrow, since "You'll need to look like Ms. Sherman at both Doctor's offices. And besides, Mom's outfits really help you display those cute ballerinas you've started wearing every day."
My day out began with a stop at the pharmacy for a purse-size bottle of perfume. Then it was on to the shopping center for a visit to Radio Shack. From there I walked down the street to Payless for some shoes. I tried on some of their flats, but the fit wasn't quite right, and there weren't any with peep toes. They had a pair of cute white pumps with 2" heels (but no peep toes) that fit reasonably well and which I actually considered. But I doubted that they'd go over well because the heel was higher than 1-1/2" and the better half definitely wants me showing off at least a couple prettily painted toes on each foot. And worse yet, they were white. If they had stocked black, I'd have bought them on general principles and held them for later. So I'll have to try another Payless in the area.
Then it was off to the Primary Care office to pick up my referral.
How I looked at the Dermatologist's office...
With referral in hand, I proceeded to the dermatologist's office for my appointment. When I got there, first things first. I had to use the restroom, so I asked where it was. The lady at the desk looked up at me, with my purse on the counter and French manicure in view, grabbed the restroom key and slid it over the counter, while reciting "It''s down the hall. Go out this door, go straight, then turn right at the hallway and it's the second door on the right, Ma'am."
I followed her directions precisely, thinking only about the traffic I'd hit on the way home, and not even contemplating what was about to happen. When I got to the second door on the right, I was surprised with the "Women" sign on it. I tried the key in the men's room door on the other side of the hall, but it didn't work. Miss-identified again, by a woman, and this time it seems to have resulted in my having to use the women's room. The staff-approved invitation was in my hand.
I was well past the point of walking back to "right" the situation - guess I shouldn't have had the extra glass of tomato juice at breakfast! Figuring it was a one-person restroom, I put the key in the door and pressed on. Was I ever wrong - four stalls and a really comfortable looking couch, in a very clean looking-and-smelling restroom! Fortunately I was alone...so I took care of business (yes, I sat) and quickly washed my hands, so I could leave before another lady got there.
No sooner had the door closed behind me as I left, when a clerk I recognized from the doctor's office came around the corner. She smiled and said hi as we passed in the hall, and she let herself in using her employee key. She could tell I came out of the women's room by where I was as she came around the corner, and when the door slammed behind me. But, she didn't say anything, and my timing really was excellent!
Once back in the office, I noticed that the waiting room was full of women. Not a man in sight, and all the clerks were female. They eventually pulled my file, but never let on that they had Miss-identified me. No gender-specific pronouns or comments were made by the girls - well, other than the doctor and her assistant (for some reason, my female Primary Care doctor always refers me to female specialists when possible) complimenting my French acrylic nails, which they thought were nicer than their own...even though I was somewhat in need of a fill. And they both told me how nice my hands will look with pretty red nails instead of the French...has my better half tipped them off?