Deepest Cut

I'd always thought of myself as fashionable. I mix and match with imagination, and generally present an elegant image.
It was with dismay and a sense of betrayal that I received a comment from a respected friend who took me aside and whispered something to the effect that no one wears jerkins or tunics anymore except Peter Pan.
I tore myself away and raced into the street, shocked and stunned. I desperately needed reassurance, so I went to another trusted friend and asked her opinion. Between us, she said, the cowboy hat has to go, along with the jodhpurs and neck kerchief. With your belly, she added, slim jeans are not something to explore.
I dropped to my knees sobbing in despair. She dragged me inside and fed me cannolis until the crying ceased.
I tossed away the cowboy hat, determined to start over. Perhaps a miner's helmet, complete with mounted searchlight. I could enter dark rooms under lit for that dramatic effect.