I do care. However, I spend a great deal of time convincing myself I don’t care, and when I have at last convinced myself that I don’t care someone makes a snarky remark on how my overalls are “DIFFERENT.” And by “DIFFERENT” they mean, "I hate them-you look hot for the same sex-you are hurting my eyes—please take them off." On the inside, my positive indoor sunlamp becomes a bit more dim, but on the outside I continue to strut around confidently as if I’m redeeming myself from my past overall “don’ts.” Why is it so difficult to admit that other people’s words and actions affect us? Hell, I don’t know. Sometimes it seems easier to convince ourselves we don’t care then to chance looking pathetic or vulnerable as if they'd be able to detect an ounce of “give a shit” in our system.
At the end of the day I want you to love my overalls as much as I do, but if you don’t that’s okay too. If you tell me you don’t it may sting for a minute, initiate a series of poses to prove the awesomeness of my overalls, encourage a rant on how comfortable and practical overalls really are (Shit, add an ass-flap and you have a perfect piece of clothing!), but what it won’t do is kill that spark of childhood giddiness every time I slide them over my hips, diminish the urge to unbuckle a strap after a few glasses of wine, or stir up any doubt over my 90’s get up.
I care. I recognize and feel comfortable with that, but I ain't taking off my overalls.