I go on a lot here about dressing up just to go to the grocery store. It's clear from the Ballston Harris Teeter that I'm shouting into the wind. But just as important as dressing up is not judging too harshly those who don't.
I moved this weekend to my own one-bedroom! my own! in Falls Church. As a result, all of my cotton shorts were dirty and/or missing in action (much like my blog posts; apologies for that). Last night, I just needed a gallon of milk for breakfast today, but all I had to wear was athletic shorts and a white undershirt. I felt naked as I beelined from the front sliding doors to the milk--which the Teet had strategically placed in the opposite corner of the store. I was rehearsing my "So good to see you! Sorry I look so ratty!" the whole time.
I made it without being spotted. But if another random men's style blogger had seen me, I'm sure he would've snorted. I guess the bottom line is that maybe a given person at the grocery store who's wearing workout clothes might conceivably have a middling-to-decent excuse, and since you just never know, you should give strangers the benefit of the doubt.
Gosh. Those words were hard to type.
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Blasphemy!
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