To jazz up my work jammies, so that I can take them from “a high-powered day in the home office” to an “evening of glamor on the sofa,” I’ve added a bit of tasteful bling from the Fred Meyer superstore’s third-grade girls’ craft department. Tucked away on pink shelves, next to unicorns and play kitchens, some craft beads sparkled inside of a plastic package. When I read the words “Tell your story” on the front of the package, I couldn’t resist the idea of stringing my story together on elastic strands, since so much of my life/clothing is already held together by stretchy, snappy elastic.
However, this project took longer than I thought it would because I had to figure out which story I would tell with the beads. There were many possibilities:
–The time that I worked up the nerve to start a Twitter account (back in 2017), and was rewarded for my bravery with immediate followers! But then, I looked closer at the thumbnail pictures of my followers and discovered that they were the “stars” of porn sites. (I locked my account. I have a whopping 63 followers. When I tweet, I am the sound of one wing flapping.)
–That time in college when some guy came up to my friend in the cafeteria and said, “We need a study group! I’m so confused. We’ve got to get on the hooter—I mean the horn—and make some calls!” I couldn’t get the visual of that slip-up out of my head, so whenever I saw him on campus, I laughed out loud. I never knew his name, but he brought me so much joy for an entire semester—and forever.
–The cautionary tale of the sunset cocktail cruise during my honeymoon. The strong rum punch, the 95-degree heat with humidity, the rocking of the boat, the rocking of the boat, the steel drum band hitting every note in time with the rocking of the boat, the projectiles from seagulls who were drawn to the cocktail shrimp on ice. Avoid the cocktail cruise.
Ultimately though, I decided that maybe I’d make a bracelet that was also useful in some way. So, I settled on a kind of “medical bracelet” in case I happened to be walking along somewhere and then suddenly passed out. What would I need? With the beads in my packet I strung together the following words:
Out of snax beer and tourniquets.
I had to spell “snacks” with an “x,” because my packet of beads did not have a “k.” Also, there weren’t any commas in the beads kit, but in an emergency, who would be paying attention to the commas? Of course, with all of the adrenalin charging through a crowd of onlookers who have discovered that a woman has hit the pavement and is wearing what looks like a medical bracelet, someone might ask, “What’s a snax beer?” And then I’d be kicking myself for buying a kit that didn’t have commas in it. But, I think the itemized list on the bracelet covers the following medical emergencies, which I might be having at any given time: low blood sugar and some kind of blood loss, resulting from crayfish that have somehow morphed onto the bodies of sharks and are now attacking people. Mostly though, I think the onlookers and the medical team would appreciate my effort to take my day outfit up a notch.
Your Turn: Do you accessorize?