August is second person month. So you stick with the format, mostly.
You have often wondered, whatever happened to those days? When you would open out the new blade for the pink razor and ease yourself into the bathtub. Turn on both taps, always the cold one first, test temperature with your feet, move to shower mode, etc. etc. During the soaping you recall the razor, now with new blade inserted, and proceed, a little randomly, after all, you don't necessarily have all day. Once you satisfy yourself that all the hairs are gone, and you are hurting a bit from the little nick that you invariably give yourself on the knee, you stop, finish the rest of the shower, and emerge out.
Tap tap into the bedroom, Oh yeah, the creme is in the bathroom, one of the side-effects of cleaning up earlier, you pat pat back there and fetch it. There its all done, a thick, non-uniform coating all over the legs and hands and face. You are now ready.
You raise it to your eyes, hmm you appreciate its fabric, admire its length (or, sometimes, its lack of it). Then you climb into it, smoothing out around non-existent hips. There is no mirror, but you can see it looks good. You feel good. You have avoided pants for a day, and gone with something feminine for a change. Your mother would have been proud to see. You sit on the bed, suddenly apprehensive that its too short a skirt (its not). Then you say, 'OK time to get up and go out into the world, in my skirt today, see here, here are my legs, not hidden in pants.' Not that anyone particularly notices.
Seems like it was an age ago. Now, with your matronly mind-set, you have forgotten those days, very nearly. The skirts themselves are missing somewhere, no one knows where. In any case the capris are an indulgence now. And looking at young college-goers in their denim skirts makes you miss those skirt days (few as they were), so much, miss that stage of your life, when it mattered how clothes felt on you, when you planned your clothes (even if just a little bit).