My Girlfriend Dressed Me For A Week ... And Became Drunk With Power
Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts, absolutely.
courtesy of the author It was a warm July afternoon like so many others. It began plainly enough, a sweet blue sky swimming with summer songbirds.
My girlfriend marched up to me and said, "You dress like an a**hole."
While I don't think a weekly bleaching and waxing counts as dressing, I agreed with the spirit of her assessment. Loving me is an act of courage, for sure.
Not all men and women can agree on what looks good on the other. In recognition of her valor, I conceded that I could do better, on one condition: that she show me the way. I know how fashionable she can be.
Here's what happened when my girlfriend dressed me for a week:
Day 1: The honeymoon period
Giddy with the hope of possibly summoning my absent fashion sense, she started with a simple classic dude look.
I was wearing a textile that can either be used as a man's shirt or a picnic accessory with skinny black jeans. The sleeves were rolled up because that's the cheat code for looking 40 percent more attractive as a dude. Things were looking promising from here.
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Day 2: The clothes make the man (bike to work)
"Hey, you're biking to work with me today, so wear this and get your a** out of bed," she said. It was only day 2 and I had already lost control of my life.
Day 3: Attending prep school
Apparently, you can wear shirts over other shirts? Pure heresy, but I consented.
It's only day 3, but this was the point where I began questioning her logic when I looked back on the week.
Look at that outfit. In July? I think she might not have had my safety and well-being in mind. I look like I'm bringing someone home to meet my parents for the first time.
Day 4: The "Yes, I know I only own one pair of shoes" edition
Plain white T-shirt and a hoodie? Again with the jacket in the summer.
I was concerned at this point that she was playing dress-up with my clothes and Russian roulette with my life. I checked to see if she had taken a life insurance policy out on me lately.
Day 5: The "Oh wait, this is going on the internet LOL" edition
She decided my closet was simply not enough. My poor neighbors started to wonder what the heck I was actually doing with my free time.
She eventually let me take off the heels that didn't fit, and I learned a few things about the pleasures of wearing a short skirt on a breezy day. Innocent bystanders were not amused.
Day 6: The stay-home and Netflix all-day outfit
She took it easy on me after forcing me into drag the previous day. What isn't noted is that I had to attend a weekly dinner party, basketball shorts, and all.
Day 7: [redacted]
Our lazy Sunday never called for getting dressed, so I didn't.
Although I chose to learn a few lessons from the non-drag days, I was just glad I never had to wear heels again.
Bob Alaburda is a senior editor at dvm360. His work has appeared in the Huffington Post, Ravishly, and more.
