For the eight years (eight years!?!) I was at home during the day with my small children, I told myself that my frumpy clothes were entirely due to a lack of shopping time.

When the kids are in school, I thought, I’ll have tons of time to go to the mall. And I’ll shop on Granville Street, and 4th Avenue, and I’ll have outfits for every occasion.

Well, my kids are in school. And here I sit, at my desk, in frumpy clothes.

This is a pair of boots that I’d really, really like.

They’re at Pacific Centre, a mere 15 minutes away. I’ve been thinking about buying them all week. And yet… downtown feels like SO far. And I have this manuscript revision that’s almost finished. And if I just sit here, enjoying the silence, for a little while longer…

I’m afraid it’s time to face facts. I am not dressed in frumpy clothes because of a lack of shopping time. I’m dressed in frumpy clothes because the things I like to do, given the choice, are write, read, and cook, and none of those things require fancy boots.

My high-school self would be so disappointed in me.