I wore a tank top today. While that may not seem to be noteworthy, if I add that I am 50 years old, than the fact that I wore a tank top, in public, becomes significant. Most women start to cover their upper arms when they turn 30. I certainly did, feeling that no matter how young the rest of me looked, flabby underarms would be a giveaway that I was not only out of shape, but old.
There are a lot of things we must do in life, not because they are really necessary, but because we are expected to. Increasingly, watching the State of the Union Address appears to fall in this category.
Every journalist, blog commentator, and politician feels entitled to tell the First Lady of the free world what dress to wear when, how much it should cost, and how long the sleeves should be.