Treasures

Shelly smoothed her hand down the length of the dress. The sleekness of the garment translated to a cool silky feel beneath her hand. Grinning and eager, she reached up for the hanger; she was ready for tonight.

This dress transformed her into someone sexy and confident. Rationally she knew she was still the same person she was each day; the shape of her legs and the texture of her skin were the same as they had been yesterday. Sure, her hair had been dried and styled after her shower today rather than left to dry but her core was no different; her desires, secrets, and goals remained unchanged. She pulled on the dress and when her head appeared at the top of the dress the shoulders the dress settled on were the same shoulders she'd seen in the mirror yesterday. As the hem rushed to its proper place, Shelly relished the snapping of the material as the length fell into place. The zipper was ushered quickly up her back to the top of its track and a hand smoothed down the front, laying the dress against her. Shelly stepped back to take in the final product. She was giddy with the difference she felt.

She twirled and twisted, encouraging the skirt to dance with her and the waist to skim lightly just above her hips. The dress teased her mouth into a smile and she felt the blood in her veins with an awareness that had been missing lately. This was the dress she chose for the nights where living and playing seemed lighter and easier – the nights when the mundane tasks could be forgotten – the nights when indulgences of pleasures and laughter were encouraged. The clean lines, heavy silkiness and seductive movement of the dress coaxed a bounce into her step. Shelly treasured this dress, immersed herself in joys and treasures in this dress, escaped in this dress.

She stepped into her heels. Then allowing the spin in her head to spin her body, Shelly threw one last glance at the mirror. She quickly closed the closet door and snatched up her purse. When tonight was over, she'd carefully clean the dress and store it once again. There, it would hang, silently, patiently, until she could indulge herself again. But that was later and this was now.

She grinned, locked the door and tripped towards the waiting car.

*

Shelly pushed her wet hair back from her face, smoothing it with a practiced gesture. Her mind wrestled with the order of the day while she blindly reached for her jeans. Thoughts of necessary chores rolled through her head as she performed her unconscious dance. First the right foot went in. She straightened halfway up with the first pull then bent again. The left leg raised; the left foot went in. That was followed by a rise onto her toes as the waistband was pulled up and a quick small twist to settle everything into its proper place. An efficient twist of the fingers and a slight flick of the wrist would secure the waist band and complete the process. Shelly completed all of these steps as she stepped out of the closet and glanced around.

Shelly felt the comfort of the pants hanging from her waist. The jeans hugged her thighs with just the right encouragement, reminding her that there was protection from the variety scrapes that one can accumulate while pulling weeds or mowing the lawn. As she headed to the kitchen to finalize her plans, she picked at the signs of wear the jeans showed - a string here, a small tear there. Today was yet another day of small tasks and mundane chores.

She stood quietly next to the kitchen counter and finished her coffee. Staring blankly at the wall in front of her, Shelly's mind worked quickly through her plans for the day. She blinked it all into order, set the cup down and turned for the door. This was her life. Small tasks of grocery shopping, vacuuming and folding laundry hardly seemed glamorous. Taking the recycling out and washing the car didn't require more from her wardrobe than comfort. This was the pair of jeans that proved that. This was the pair of jeans she lived her life in.