Good-bye Boutique, Hello Chico!

It’s been years since it dawned on me that I had been hammered with UKS.  I realized that Ugly Knees Syndrome is inherited, dreaded, and forever. That and PFA.  Plague of the Fat Ankle.

Regardless of how skinny my upper portion might become, for every inch of upper body I lose, UKS and PFA roll on and on and on.

I would so love to wear leggings, skinny jeans, or tights with a tunic top. Peeking from the hemline of the tunic top would be UK, ugly covered in leggings, skinny jeans, or tights.  No cover can make them pretty, or slim, or non-existent.

Boots help.  The tall ones with tall heels.  Ankles and tree trunk legs can be disguised in boots, but sometimes the PFA is squeezed northward and the fat squirts out over the top of the boot, contributing to even more unattractiveness.  There is no win.

I live with the ongoing dread of being photographed and posted on People of Wal-Mart, with my Ugly – as in “U-G-L-Y, You Ain’t Got No Alibi, You Ugly!” Knees hanging out from under a darling dress designed for someone half my age.

It does not help that between my ears, I think I’m 24. I’ve been 24 most of my life.  To say I’m shocked when I glance in the mirror would be an understatement.  After years of seeing my mother peering back at me, you’d think I would have gotten the message.

Sometimes I think I’ll just buy a larger size, as in a Size L top to cover the bulges.  Wrong!  I look like someone walking around in a circus tent. Better to wear something more form fitting, but not too tight, as in “the correct size.”  That varies from store to store and style to style. 

I refuse to buy anything with an X in it.  Since Mother tried to clothe me in a 6x in my younger years, I have known what X represents. X = Not Good.  X=X-Lax.  X=wrong answer.  X=Do Not Enter –Crime Scene.

                                                                                                                                                                  I have not worn any skirt that hits well-below my knees since a less-than-tactful son told me I looked like a Pilgrim. He had in mind the somber ladies who fed the Indians and stoked the campfire. Fashion in Black, White, and Dull.

With the Thanksgiving holiday approaching, I have to be very careful in wardrobe selection. I tend to keep wardrobe from the ancient of days. Fashion Rule: If it's been in 3 closets, it's time to discard, let someone else enjoy its elegance.

So, what’s a girl to do when overwhelmed by UKS and PFA? I cannot bring myself to wear what’s hot, regardless, as I see so often in women who stroll the aisles of the grocery store, the retail giant, or enjoy dinner at the local restaurant.    

I’ll continue my search for fashion forward outfits.  No orthopedic shoes and no QEII handbags. No Pilgrim labels, either. 

I’ll search out fashion designed with a nod toward age-disguise and not disgrace.