The Content Hobo

I have a name for my look, if you can even go so far as to call it a look.

I thought of it one day as I was walking through the mall and caught a glance at msyelf in one of those random mirrors in Dillard's. I like to call my look, The Content Hobo.

It really does make sense. Usually, and especially during the summertime, I have a routine where I roll out of bed, grab my basketball shorts and a t-shirt from one of my 1,001 high school clubs, and then walk out into the world to do whatever it is I do during my day. They aren't even really good high school club t-shirts, by the way. They look like the kind that you might find tsunami relief-effort volunteers tossing indiscriminately to crowds of naked villagers.

I've always been this way, and by this way, I don't mean the usual 'ohhh boys just don't care what they look like do they now?' way. I mean the 'daddy, can I please give that poor homeless boy the rest of my burger?' kind of way. I remember when I was in the sixth grade, freshly released from the oppression of Catholic school uniforms, I wore the same shirt every Monday and Friday. The shirt was from my dad, well he didn't really give it to me so much as I took it in as my own. He got it from his company while doing some kind of volunteer work involving children, the shirt was three sizes too big for me and was a kind of heather gray, or as I like to call it, oatmeal.

Across the chest were emblazoned the words, 'I Am My Kid's Dad', with the word 'Dad' being written in a scribbly font and with three different colors, one for each letter. Now, obviously, my classmates knew better. It was almost a given that I was not my kid's dad. I say almost though because I think a tiny, tiny part of them was saying 'well, you never know these days.' I know how mean kids can be, but for some reason, they were intimidated by the shirt. Too intimidated to walk up to me and ask, 'Oh, you have kids huh? With who?' I think it was the same kind of intimidation you get when you see an absolute ragmuffin walking the streets. If he were your uncle or cousin, you could say 'what the hell are you wearing?!' But because they didn't know me that way, and it was a public school, I could very well be a switchblade weilding vagabond of the hood.

It's a tradition I carry with me even today. I have nice things, I buy lots of nice things, but I don't wear them. I think if I wore nice things everyday, people would just expect it and get disappointed when I showed up with my black and neon green shirt with an air freshener on it that says 'Youth Council keeps it fresh!'

Also central to my philosophy is the effect it would have on my self esteem. As a hobo, I can think to myself 'Yeah, I could look nice if I really wanted to. Today I just don't feel like it. You'll just have to catch me on a day when I'm on top of my game.'

If I actually dressed nicely every day, I would think to myself 'well, this is as good as it gets, and it's still not doing me any good. I go through the effort of digging through my disheveled drawers to find a shirt from an actual store and no one appreciates it. I've plateaued.'

As you can see, the latter is not a fun thought to have. So, right now anyway, I'm perfectly happy to walk the streets of Lawton with my Mexican Superman shirt that I got from Spanish Club, thinking that if I really, really wanted to, I could look sharp. I just simply choose not to. For now, I'm perfectly content being a hobo.



If you like fashion, though, I suggest this blog... I doub't you'll get any pointers from mine!
http://thedancingdoctor.blogspot.com/