sweater weather

She had bought the sweater from Target, and so she knew she had to wear it. Or she wanted to wear it. The sweater, though, was hot. But at least she looked cute. So here she was hot but cute. And when you say it like that, you see that it sounds like a good thing. So hot but cute was her mantra for the day; she would be hot but cute all day in town, at home, while she wrote, while she did the dishes, the laundry, whatever the day would allow. She would be cute. But hot. 

The sweater was neon yellow, which was a new color for her to try but she felt ambitious, and ambitious was a compliment as far as she could see. I mean, when people say you are so ambitious, that’s a compliment, right? So she saw it that way. Not that anyone had said that to her except herself. But that was ok. And here she was, a cute but hot ambitious girl who was wearing a sweater on a spring day. A day where the weather promised to be warm but maybe windy, and if it was windy, that would be her saving grace. She would walk through town with the sweater on and all the other people who wore short-sleeves would envy her because they hadn’t anticipated the wind and the briskness that would come with that wind, and she would lift her nose slightly and know that she’d chosen right.  

Those are the things that make us feel good, you know, those choices that make us look smarter and more aware than the next person. So she would revel in the idea that this would happen to her and she would earn that stamp of greatness, that stamp of “wow, you sure did make the right choice.” She would wear the neon color with pride and sweat until the wind came out, and then laugh. Hahaha. “See,” she would say, “I knew.” Because if you live in Colorado, you know that the sun does not always conquer the chilly air. It most often is just sunny, not so much warm. This is a shame, but if you think about the alternative, to be warm in the spring and hot in the summer, she thought she would prefer the brisk Colorado springs that snowed instead of rained and promised warm days only to be cold when you actually went out, wishing you’d dressed in layers because the tank top was not nearly enough.

She had talked herself into a sense of pride. A sense of attagirl, and she felt good. Hot but good; cute.