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I don't often commit a fashion faux pas. I don't generally try to avoid them, it just so happens I get lucky most of the time. My getting dressed routine most often consists of me pulling whatever shirt I can find out of my closet (although I do consider short sleeved or long) and then throwing it on top of one of my two pairs of jeans. So, no faux pas, more than having anything to do with how much I care about how I look each day depends, frankly, on the lack of diversity and selection within the three walls of my closet. It just so happens that it wouldn't be that easy to commit fashion faux pas when you have what I'm working with.

Today, though, was a big exception.

I knew the moment I locked my door this morning that I chose wrong--very, very wrong--but it was too late to turn back. I gave myself a quick once over and prayed that no one would notice.

Unfortunately, my first friendly encounter couldn't not notice if she tried. "You look like spring," she joked. Ha ha. I don't think she realized that I was already very much aware.

Now, as I walk across the quads, into coffee shops and the library I can't help but feel like a giant piece of pastel Easter candy. Pink on the bottom, blue on the top. Whatever was I thinking? I can only hope that my black shoes and black hat buffer the cutsey-ness just a bit. I've even thrown in a black scarf for good measure.

I can see it in everyone's eyes too. I think most people, recognizing that I am generally aware of the world, probably pity me more than anything else. I, in fact, pity myself. The girl who sold me my peanuts gave me a little glance and smiled a bit. A smile that revealed her sorrow for the fact that I still have much of the day to get through before I can go home and change--thank goodness for winter's early sundown.

Well, I suppose it could be worse. I could have forgotten to get dressed all together. Yeah. I'll keep that in mind.