...Or Clothes In My Wardrobe

I don't usually swim. But when there is an occasion where trackies and a hoodie are socially unacceptable, I find myself doing breast stroke through a pile of clothes taller than a ten year old. So why does searching for something to wear end in frustration and stress to the point that looking good has lost its appeal?
It's not like I have NO clothes - that would be cold, and awkward for the public. But whatever I pick up doesn't seem to do make me go 'yes, wonderful, i look amazing!'. Instead, the clothes make me go, 'you're a mess. stop. get back in your trackies and try growing a beard to match this ensuing hermit-ness'. While finding the correct combination of clothes to achieve an appropriate sense of self esteem doesn't seem too difficult in theory, it's the true test of a woman's soul if she can find something to wear every day, for every occasion and be completely happy with her decision. And this is providing that it's an every day kind of issue, and not the dreaded 'fat day'. If you have never had one of these, you can stop reading because you are obviously not a person. These days consist of the aforementioned trackies - preferably mens ones - and the feeling that anything tighter than that will give you a silhouette similar to one found in the middle of a cow field. And then the lack of clothes in the cupboard are looking less and less appealing, and more and more like a pile of dish cloths. The question I ask myself on these horrible days, is why is today any different from yesterday? Yesterday I felt pretty good - I ate well, went for a ride and my hair looked amazing. Why is it then, that today I feel like I spent yesterday gnawing on meat and cheese on the couch and my hair looks like it's been dragged through an oil spill? What could possibly go wrong in the 8 hours that I spent asleep in bed?! And if this wasn't enough, why do I suddenly look I have replaced my clothes with the child's equivalent? Yet it all seemed so wonderful yesterday…(all my troubles seemed so far awaaaay). The thing that really stumps me, is that no matter how many hours I spend trying to replace the clothes that I apparently don't have, I will eventually become bored and frustrated, thereby hurling myself into a vicious cycle of new clothes/boredom/frustration/hermit-ness. The only thing I find consolable is that wherever I go, whatever happens, I will always have my collection of fat-trackies and hoodies. And if they ever give me a fat day, then I will rescind my right to go out in public and give in to the challenge of growing a beard.