I have made a bold decision.
I will begin to wear aprons over my pants as a way to create a new wardrobe for myself. I just ordered two vintage aprons - the smock type with vintage red cherries and colored piping. And in these pictures I am modeling an apron graciously sent to me by fellow artist Amy Schimler who designed the cheery farm animal fabric. I told her I would take pictures, artfully shot, holding lavender with Pino and Paco sitting by my side, posed like Martha Stewart props, but alas, this is Apifera, not Martha's [for which Pino and Paco are grateful], hence the photos are...well...sorry, Amy, I will do better.
The brainstorm to wear aprons stemmed from the fact that I am turning an age when, body weight once carried up high now seems to be lower, and those teeny little tanks I wore allowing my lady tummy slightly peaking out now reveals much too much even for my eyes. As healthy as we eat, and as much motion as my body gets, I am done fighting the reality that my 49 year old body just isn't 'cute' anymore. Nor is it ugly. Rather than getting down about it, I will accentuate the positive. I will cloak my body in items that make me happy, and yet react well with my donkey filled pie-bakin' -chicken- scracthin' life, and look good with braids and boots. I want to feel free, like those teeny tops made me feel once, but with slightly better coverage. For some reason, aprons make me feel that way. So when I look in the mirror and see the chin sagging, arms getting a bit pudgy, I will stop, and look at the apron I have on and feel refreshed.
I will also begin riding my horse in my aprons.
I have always re-invented myself every 11 years or so, and I am now in my donkey-apron stage. Although since donkeys live to be over 30, I do not consider it a phase really, but rather consider the donkey's the guides of this phase. My mother gave me her old sewing machine that needs fixing. I yearn to learn to sew better, and I will make aprons. I will name the aprons, like I do the animals,and I won't care how much paint or dirt gets on them.
You know you married the right person when you can both wear the same apron.
