Takes a Long Time, Getting Dressed ...

an ad for elder-friendly clothing

For most of my life I haven't had to think too hard about getting dressed. Sure, there were those Early Years when other people had to dress me, when I needed help, later, pulling on socks, tying my shoes, fastening my winter coat. And, even later, my parents (especially my mom) would, well, edit what I was wearing--and this continued well into my life:

• At a family reunion in Oregon (I was in my 40s!), Mom told me not to wear jeans to a family picnic (I was the only male there without jeans--except for our immediate family).
• When Mom was in a stages-of-care place late in her life, she told me (I was in my 60s!) not to wear shorts to the dining hall--the servers wouldn't serve me. (I did; they did.)

Anyway, for most of my life I threw clothes on, tore them off; I was as quick as a hare who notices he's been asleep and a tortoise is about to beat him in a race. I see this behavior now--in others--in the men's locker room out at the health club where I drag my Sorry Behind most afternoons. Young men changing in and out of their workout gear in, oh, about 14.3 seconds.

But now--especially in winter--getting dressed and undressed? An ordeal.

It doesn't help that I've got a bit of vertigo now--so I have to sit--or hold onto something--while I'm doing parts of the routine (shoes and socks and pants on-and-off). By the time I pull on one of my boots at the club, the Young Studs have completely changed and commenced their ferocious workouts, smiles on their faces, smiles that say: I'll never be like that old dude in the locker room!

I've not yet reached that stage when, in the morning, I'll just pull on a flannel jump-suit (see pic at the top of the page), one step up from pj's. Both my parents eventually did so, and my mom, an enormously proud woman, must have felt that the heavens themselves had cracked.

Donning winter outerwear is in the same category of I-used-to-do-this-much-faster. Boots, scarf, coat, gloves, hat--it seems an hour has passed before I manage to adorn myself for the challenges of the brumal, brutal outdoors.

Summers are so much better: sandals, shorts (that's right, Mom!), T-shirt, and ... away!