My son is going to homecoming this year with his first girlfriend. She’s picked out a gorgeous dress and the couple must match so we drove to Kenwood Mall. I’ll be honest and confess that I do not do well in mall settings. The noise, the people, the lights, and the overwhelming choices usually end up in my mini-version of an anxiety attack. Usually I leave empty handed.
Back in the day I’d take a tour of the mall, perhaps see something I desired, become confused and anxious, and then go to Cheesecake Factory for a snack and glass of wine. After the wine, it was always easier to make the purchase. Honestly, if all the stores sold martinis, they’d double their sales…but I digress.
Walking through the mall with my daughter she wanted to know why I didn’t just buy something that I liked. Not wanting to dump the anxiety and wine story on her so I simply told her I didn’t want anything. If I got anything I wanted it to be an iconic piece, an investment piece, something classic that looked like it was made for me. That’s when I turned and saw the most beautiful black dress that should have had the label ‘pamela’ sewn into it. It was an “investment” piece…the kind where you skip your starbucks and pack your lunch for a few months.
The son and girlfriend showed up as I tried ‘pamela’ on. The girls were all in. My son, however, just looked bewildered and asked why I didn’t just wear something from the basement. I had no idea what he was talking about, but his room is in the basement and he reminded me of the two full racks of clothes hanging down there for the past 5 years. Oh…those…that’s from “before” …before when I used to go out all the time, before when I was married to your father, before when I had fancy things to go to, before when I drank Champagne for breakfast and martinis for snacks.
Curiosity, of course, got the better of me. Digging through basement boxes of shoes, I found prada, jimmy choo, and manola. Boxes of coach, gucci, and louis…silks, cashmeres, nubby wools, and heavy linens. Jeans of every brand and glorious cocktail dresses of shimmery glitter. I slipped a mink coat over my yoga pants and tshirt, peeled off my fuzzy recycled socks and slid on a pair of 4 inch heels I can no longer walk in. I sat down on the cold floor in total amazement.
Where have I been? Has being sober, being healthy, and being a yogi put me in a whole new state of spiritual defilement? How on earth have I denied myself of my femininity and my Pisces nature that views clothing as art? Is a cocktail dress, a mink coat, and high heels still a trigger? Am I brave enough, sure enough, and secure enough to test it out? When are we healed? Is living in fear of a return to debauchery health?
I moved an armload upstairs to my closet.
Living in fear of a return to “dis”-ease is “dis”-ease. What are you afraid of?
*The sole purpose of these articles is to provide information about the tradition of ayurveda, yoga, and meditation. This information is not intended for use in the diagnosis, treatment, cure or prevention of any disease. If you have any serious acute or chronic health concern, please consult a trained health professional who can fully assess your needs and address them effectively. Check with your doctor before taking herbs or using essential oils when pregnant or nursing.