Life Choice # 8: Trousers or Skirts?

Now this is important. This is something I’ve been struggling with. What you wear, defines you, so you have to be sure you wear the right thing. That’s most obvious.
No, really, it’s not that dramatic, but it’s an interesting question. For years and years I wore barely any skirt or dress, I was all jeans, because it was so easy. I had to spend almost an hour on a bike every day, through rain and snow and sun, and in that case jeans are just the most comfortable solution. There was even a year I didn’t wear a skirt for about seven months. For a girly girl, that’s not so typical, is it…? I mean, I’m not all pink and flowers, but I’m certainly not a skater girl or a sporty one. I have never been that way either. You’d expect me to wear heels and skirts.
But I like comfortable clothes, so I wore trousers. I still like trousers. There are so many cool ones in the world… Like, everywhere you look!

I have similar ones, and seriously, I was the first one to wear these. Call me hipster, but it's true. Source.

I have similar ones, and seriously, I was the first one to wear these. Call me hipster, but it’s true.

I know I recently ranted against them, but actually that was above all because of one awesome and cool pair that is just not quite long enough for my endless legs (ahem). I still like my skinny jeans and the leggings-with-zippers-so-trousers, the inevitable black trousers, and the fake leather ones though they aren’t quite long…

But I’ve also come to love skirts and dresses a whole lot. I mean, I’ve always liked them, but barely wore them. Now the tide is turning. I spend less time on a bike. At least, it’s divided into more parts, so I don’t spend much time at once outside. I can be sure I won’t freeze to death – always important to know!
And now I’m a big, big fan of skirts and dresses. It’s hard to find good ones as well. Try being as tall as I am. Finding a skirt that’s long enough is like finding a treasure really…! I hope people realise I’m not voluntarily slut like dressed. There isn’t really a choice…

One thing that makes me love skirts so much, are nylon stockings. There are many cool trousers, but there are at least as much cool nylon stockings! Sometimes I just want to buy more skirts in order to wear those awesome nylon stockings. I kid you not. Recently a friend of mine came over wearing the most awesome stockings, and I kept telling her they were so cool, until she granted me permission to buy them as well. Yay! Thank you, friend. You rock. (And so do the nylons, which by now have been bought by me as well of course).

These are the nylons I'm talking of. Of course we don't wear them like this... But they fit with many different styles. Source.

These are the nylons I’m talking of. Of course we don’t wear them like this… But they fit with many different styles.

So now I’m balancing on the edge of trousers and skirts.
But what do you prefer? And why? Which ones do you consider the most comfortable for everyday use? And for the men: do you like kilts? Please be honest ;).

Ever after and beyond

It was another regular day in the palace. Nothing that just happened once upon time, more like a thousand times upon a time. The days were like pearls of a necklace: all as close as possible the same. It was hard to say that this was very exciting. So I waited for the bright sun to get away before I left my bed. In the hallways the twelve children were running around and laughing, screaming, giggling.
“Shut up, you”, I growled to them. For a second they watched me and then ran away, silent like children still can do. A maid ran up to me and asked: “Can I help you get dressed, Your Majesty?” “That’s what we pay you for, ain’t it?”
So we entered my dressing room, probably the biggest room in the entire palace. For years I had been collecting my dresses. Some of them deserved a notable place, they were hanging in a sort of vitrine. My wedding dress for example, still brightly white, covered in the most expensive pearls and diamonds. I only wore it once of course, and now it doesn’t fit me anymore. I used to be thinner, but that was mainly because food was harder to get. I was used to luxury for a long time, until my stupid father decided to remarry.
Men can be so dumb.
Either way, after years of living in poverty, I cherished the silk and diamonds even more. That’s why I had an entire room with all dresses I had worn since I’d married.

“What dress do you want, Majesty?” the maid asked.
“That green one. It looks good with my black hair”, I answered. The fact that I had my hair coloured every week in order to remain that beautiful black-haired girl was a well-kept secret. The maid helped me get in my corset and started pulling the laces. I quickly turned around and yelled: “I can do this myself, you fool!”
She looked startled and then moved away. I believed she was the newest servant here and she wasn’t used to my habits yet. It’s pretty impossible to get your corset tight without help, so I pottered and cursed and didn’t succeed. The last time someone helped me with my corset though, I ended up unconscious on the floor. It was only one of the attacks I got to endure. In the end I had to give in anyway, so I let the nervous maid tie the laces together with her small, trembling fingers. Then she tried to get me in the green dress, a beautiful, hand-crafted dress, that apparently had become too small for me.
“It still fit two weeks ago”, I mumbled. “How is this possible? Someone must have done something wrong! What the hell is this shit. Get the red dress, now.”

Fortunately that dress still fit me. I never realized how marriage and luxury meant you would become fat as a dwarf. It made the world even heavier to cope with. But because of this I decided to take the stairs, for nothing in particular. My husband was the king of this country and he ruled it; I had nothing to do. Waving at people once every while, but that was about it. Still, I could see what was going on in the kitchen or something. After having been nearly run over by one of my too many children, I descended from the stairs.

Then, out of the blue, a delivery guy walked in. He was wearing about five baskets with all kinds of fruit. I abruptly stopped and watched this while my heart pounded. Danger! Danger! He didn’t seem to seem me until I ran up to him and smashed the baskets out of his hand.
“GUARDS! GUARDS!” I yelled. I was nearly freaking out. All the pears, apples, even pineapples were spread over the floor, bruised and battered. In the middle of it stood the delivery guy with big, surprised and slightly scared eyes. Meanwhile, the guards arrived and screamed: “What’s going on? What’s the matter?”
I pointed at the apples in front of me.
“The apples?” informed the tallest guard.
“Yes”, I said.
“Do they have worms or something?” asked the other one. When he saw my face, he quickly murmured: “Oh yes, yes, I see.”
“This is an attack!” I said angrily. “Don’t you see? Why are these here?” I kicked the apples away. “This is an attack! Arrest this guy and find out who sent him.”
“But ma’am”, stuttered the delivery guy, “This was just an order for the kitchen here…”
As logic as it sounded, I still turned my back to them and walked away.
People nowadays don’t respect traumas anymore.

Later that day, my tired husband came to me, rubbed his eyes and sighed.
“Was that necessary, dearest?”
“What?” I asked, but I knew.
“All that fruit has been thrown away. Wasted. For a few apples, dearest?”
“You know I dislike them.”
“You should realize that no one tries to kill you anymore. You’re safe here.”
His voice sounded so exhausted I almost felt guilty for giving him another thing to worry about. My once so handsome husband and I had turned into tired people with wrinkles. Where was the time we were both pretty and we sincerely loved each other? At least, for me it was good way out of the poverty and labour with the tiny people I lived with. It was a way to become a princess again, as I was before.
“I’m sorry, darling”, I said. “Now take a nap.”
“See you later, Snowie.”
“Yes, darling.”

And he went off again.

People never realize how hard life is for someone who was once called Snow White the tragic princess, and who is now a regular queen, becoming fat and ugly after having produced twelve babies. People also never realize how many recipes use apples.

Life’s as much a bitch as my step mother once was.