Self · Slice of Life

Unchooser, Part II

Most girls are overcome with decision paralysis when it comes to what to wear.

Some, like me, more than others.

I almost wish we were required to wear uniforms at work, because that would save me at least an hour of agonizing over my options. But I also dread the idea of wearing a white polo shirt and looking like a factory worker.

I’ve tried many approaches. Pre-selected combinations the night before. Color-coding schemes for every day of the week. Following the month’s trend. Wearing similar outfits for an entire week.

It still takes me an hour at the minimum.

I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to choose. Maybe because it’s easier not to.

On a particularly tiring Monday morning, I called up my best friend.

“It’s only six,” she whined, sleep still interlaced in her voice.

“I know. But I’ve been up since five and I can’t decide what to wear.”

She didn’t even miss a beat, and I had to admire that from someone who’d just woken up. “The flowery dress with the navy cardigan and the cognac ankle boots.”

I blinked. “… Didn’t I wear that last week?”

“Two months ago.” I heard a thump, and I cringed. She probably fell off her bed. “You owe me dinner.”

Dinner, thankfully, was a lot less agonizing choice to make.

 

related: Unchooser, Part I


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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