At first I overreacted. Buddhist style
   can be a bit extreme, and I started
  having paranoid delusions of David
 shaving his head and draping himself
in orange sheets like the monks. 
Of course he didn't, but he had
changed. He would emerge after
 meditating for hours looking as
  if he had been on a wild mushroom
    ride, grinning broader than a
      Cheshire cat. He was fucking
        radiant. Illuminated. Glowing even.

    
Instead of draping himself in
  ceremonial robes, however, he
    would put on his Fleuvog
      motorcycle boots and his 
       reversible Calvin Klein coat.
        He may have become a full-fledged
         Buddhist, but ironically, for the
          first time since he was a 
          teenager, David was going through
          a fashion obsession period--
          still is, in fact. You know,
          snooping out designer sales and
         wearing expensive basics from
        Banana Republic like they're 
       ten-year-old t-shirts. At least
     he's casual about it. I'll start
    worrying when the citrus colored
  Versace shirts appear in his
closet. Till then, no big whoop.