Back in the day, women wore hats when they went out. Big hats, little hats. Hats with flowers and fruit, hats with ribbons and frills. Wide brimmed hats, no brimmed hats. Women no longer wear big hats, or hats at all, unless you consider baseball caps (which I don’t). Why did women stop wearing hats?

Kelly wrote about the hats she wears everyday. She challenged her readers to list the metaphoric hats they wear.

I am a wyfe. A lover. A friend and comforter.

I am a dishwasher, laundry woman, bed maker.

I am a sister and (grand)daughter, cousin and niece, forcefully disconnected from her clan against her will.

I am a loner who craves community and company. A loner who doesn’t want to be one.

I am an animal activist, feminist, and peace nik.

I am a writer and speaker, blogger and webpage update-r.

I am a walker.

An eater.

Dog and cat owned.

I clean up poop of all sizes and colors.

And it’s the same with vomit.

I am a reader with a short attention span.

I am a canner and soup maker.

I am a rural living Granite Stater, a former Flatlander.

I am a commuter and an econo-car driver.

I am working class.

I am a genealogist and connection maker.

I am a binge eater.

I am a lover of all animals.

I am a photographer.

And an idealist.

I am hurt easily.

I am creative.


A talker.

What are you?

The inspiration

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