I’m in shock.

I tell my wife, “I’m wearing over eight hundred dollars worth of clothes.”

She looks me over. “Gold-plated underwear?”

“That wouldn’t be comfortable nor practical.” I reconsider the gold-plated undies for a few more seconds. “How would that work?”

“Why are your clothes so pricy?”

“My socks,” I admit.

I’m wearing my compression stockings, as the medical ‘they’ likes to label them. I received a statement about them last night. Review, sign, return. Custom made in Germany to help me cope with lymphedema, the statement reveals that each stocking costs $366.

I explain this to my wife. “Good thing that they’re paid for by Medicare and Tricare for Life. I would have never bought these on my own.”

“No. You’re not comfortable with a pair of shoes that costs over a hundred dollars,” my wife says.

This is true. Fashion doesn’t interest me. I like to be practical. Today’s shoes cost me about sixty. They’re several years old. My jeans are a pre-COVID purchase. Forty dollars. My shirt was bought at an outlet store for $25, I think, over ten years ago. My Columbia fleece is even older. I think I bought it for $40 on sale. Other than the stockings, my undies are the newest things on my person.

Four more stockings are on the way. $366 each. I think about getting a safe to keep them safe.

I begin typing on my computer. Goldplate underwear for men is available at Kohl’s, a search result says. I click on the link. It comes up with gold-plated stainless-steel chains.

Just as well. I don’t think I’m up for gold-plated underwear.