Yesterday I decided to dress casually for at least one day at work. I stayed up half the night worrying about what I was going to wear today. Alright, mostly the babies, up at night like whack-a-moles, destroyed my sleep.
This morning I found a pair of jeans to wear at the bottom of a laundry basket. Get this, I didn’t iron them.
Kids, I really wanted to iron my jeans, but I didn’t.
I have to be honest to casual day (even if they are rules I made up in my head,) and that means not taking special care for my clothes. Instead of picking a pair of heels the right size for my jeans, I dug out my adidas. Granted, they’re really cute sneaks, but they didn’t actually match my shirt. The sneaks have red stripes, and my shirt had orange on it. Holy cow. They didn’t match at all.
Do you have any idea how hard it was to find a pair of sweat socks? Well, it was, and I ended up stealing a pair of El Guille’s socks. I settle for a pair of earrings as my only jewelry. I barely did my hair. I did wear makeup, I mean, I haven't lost my mind.
I took this picture on the way to my car:
Man, those jeans need to be ironed (and possibly starched.) And yes, the jeans are rolled up and the hems are still dragging. I feel like Stacey and
I went straight onto a conference call. Phew! They can’t see how…average I look. I might have lost my masterful upper hand on that one.
When I wear sneakers I always have a startling revelation: I am short. Short, short, short, short, short. I wear heels, wedges, and platforms so often that I don't really know my own height. All of a sudden I have to look up to see people’s faces; it’s all very disconcerting. Short. Short, short, short, short, short.
I got invited out to lunch, by my very own team. They actually sent around an email and we went to lunch. I can’t help but think the clothes had something to do with it. I like to think that maybe I was more approachable, somehow more empathetic. I should wear my AC/DC shirt everyday.
They moved my desk, into the corner window of the corner office. You guys, if I’d known that all I had to do to get the corner office was start dressing like a slob, maybe I would have done it a long time ago. Who knew that dressing like you were going to the hardware store would get your career into high gear?
On my after work trip with the kids to Costco, I felt like I was just schlepping to the store. No, I really was schlepping to the store. This whole casual thing started to feel more uncomfortable. By the time I was supposed to leave for book club, I gave up. I had to get those comfortable clothes off of me. Back on went my new green top and black straight leg jeans with leopard wedges. RELIEF!!