one yard of me

I remembered to wear my apron today.

My mom had a huge assortment of pretty aprons. My favorite was a ruffly red one. Her's seemed only decorative- much to delicate for the rough hand wiping of a kitchen. There were affectations of the feminine persona.
Aunt Mary and Uncle Mel had given me a simple apron when I was about 12. I wore it every time I made bread in my adult years until I gave it to my son once he started helping in the kitchen. I had out grown it. The cord was too short, and the waist tie was just under my bust. It did not occur to me to get or make another. In my struggle to obtain womanhood,(I did not see myself as a girl; more like female guy- the word for adult men, but quite men. Women don't have a good word for that) a few friends and I rediscovered those feminine affectations. I now have 9 hats and I wear them as often as possible. I have gloves from crocheted lace to opera, which I also wear often. I have silk neck scarves. I felt like a woman, and a respectable one, while out and about. Now for at home too. I found a cute little blue gingham apron at the town rummage sale in Talking Rock, GA for $2. There is a pin-upesque woman on it with an unattached full skirt. When you flip up the skirt, you see her matching panties. I washed it, pressed it, hung it in the closet and promptly forgot about it.
How very embarrassing. I was making dinner today. I found myself wiping my hand on my shirttail. I wish I had a apron. Oh wait- I do! And my little lady was around my waist. I felt even more at home in my kitchen. I want more of them, not as a matter of costume, but as a necessity to being more at home.