emperor's new clothes

So, I went shopping today. For clothes.

Note, this is like saying, 'Ghandi went to McDonalds and ate a cheeseburger with fries."

I buy clothes about once or twice a year, mostly because I spend a good deal of my time in scrubs, and in my occupation, "gowning up" has nothing to do with going to a ball, and everything to do with cleaning up something nasty and biohazardous.

But I'm going to a little informal dinner party tomorrow, and realized I couldn't wear surgical green scrubs with "Hospital of St. Elsewhere" stamped on the ass without being socially shunned in the academic circles of Sarasota (or should I say "circle," as there's really not a lot of colleges around here).

So, now I have some new clothes, and have relieved my coffers of some of their burgeoning wealth (ooo! five... no... ten cents still left).

I wish I wasn't trading my soul and sanity for money, but sometimes, when you realize you can then trade the money for the cutest, most gratuitous black cocktail dress ever, you can delude yourself into thinking you won't miss your soul/sanity that much.