For a non-visual brain organizer like I am, this is pretty much an invitation to overwhelm and distraction...something someone trying to methodically organize characters and pivotal scenes and meaningful dialogue inside the outline of a long work of fiction doesn't really need.
And if that weren't reason enough to stay away from wandering through the whims and fancies of friends and friends of friends and friends of friends of friends...here's what Pinterest left in my head today:
This is the way I think I used to look in my clothes. This is the way I sometimes believe I could still look in my clothes if I lost 10 pounds. In fact, I almost googled leather pants today....
Then I remembered that this is really a more appropriate and real-life look for me:
In other words, I'm telling you...a woman my age in leather pants would do nothing to enhance her sagging body parts, nothing to add credibility to her gender, and certainly nothing you could label "good fashion" for the 50s. That was my head talking.
But my heart still wanted to rock leather pants.
When did this happen? At what age/body stage did some things become inappropriate for me? I've been tall and thin my whole life...before tall and thin was cool, in fact. Now that it IS cool, dang it, I'm too old to pull off the shock and awe.
Well...maybe the shock.
I thought about my sweet friend Anna Marie, who told me when she was 75: "I feel exactly like I did when I was 18...I just don't climb the stairs like I did when I was 18."
Or wear leather pants?
Surely, I tried to tell myself while attempting to re-focus attention on some weighty character development in Chapter 4...surely I can still look hot in leather pants.
If it's night time.
Really dark.
And I walk fast...
Ha! Like I could walk fast in those boots...
Dang you, Pinterest.
Now. Back to work.
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