In early elementary school, my mother used to send me to school wearing hand-knit cardigans, corduroys, boots and dress shirts underneath during the winter. She was worried that I would contract hypothermia at school - I exaggerate, but mothers also exist for teasing. I would go to school and sweat to death, because for whatever reason winter is the time of year where most people decide to bask in 90 degree heat indoors.
I always wore those hand dyed - I think one wasn’t even dyed - sheep’s wool sweaters with a thousand little fibers sticking out, and everyone else would wear sweatshirts with Disney cartoons on them. I sort of wanted those too, but my mother didn’t believe in them.
I really despised those clothes at the time, not because I didn’t like them before I went to school, but because they weren’t the norm. However, I later realized the amount of love that went into every layer, every knot woven, and every bead of perspiration I shed only to guarantee that I was never cold.
Also, sixteen years later I’d end up wearing flip flops into the month of December so her instinct was probably on point.
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- greeniskindofwhorish said: I’ve still got a big, itchy, wool sweater and it’s still my favorite to wear.
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