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My Flower Pants.

Today was laundry day so I was wearing my stretchy flower pants. They're great. They're loud, they're comfortable.

And as I wore them I was wondering how many other hundreds of women wear these same copy of pants from Old Navy, and I started to wonder what those other women are like, and would I be friends with them or would our conversation be nonexistent or would we even cross paths in the first place? Would it be embarrassing and appalling when we saw each other wearing cloned clothing, like when Lindsey Lohan sees her school enemy in Freaky Friday, and they're both wearing the same shirt? (Lindsey Lohan's character, by the way/if you'll remember, turns her shirt inside out after that so that her shirt doesn't "match" anymore and wears it with the crazy messy thread side out the rest of the day).

And as I wore those flower pants I was thinking about this conversation I was having the other day with a woman I greatly admire. I don't know if she's the type to wear these type of flower pants, but she's someone I feel like I have a decent amount in common with. But our conversation was so awkward, so choppy... and I wondered why it was that way. I left the conversation feeling mildly uncomfortable for no apparent reason. I wondered what social skills I lack or social skills she lacks that would make our talk so halted--or were our social skills to blame at all? Was it our similarities that blinded us from chat?

And why is it that there are people that I have such differing opinions and interests with, yet they're some of my very best friends (and family members)? How is it that I can I talk for hours on end and laugh til I cry with people that haven't stepped foot in a classroom since their childhood, don't read or write for leisure, could care less about cooking, and haven't ever ridden a horse before? And I know for a fact they wouldn't be caught dead wearing flower pants from Old Navy?

Some thoughts.

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