This morning I overslept by about 15 minutes. You wouldn't think it, but 15 minutes makes a huge difference when you are running like a wild woman through your bedroom trying to remember to put makeup and deodorant on, find matching shoes and socks, and brush your hair and teeth. Now that I am trying to be environmentally conscious and have a carpool buddy (Hi Dave!), its even more imperative that I get myself together and out the door on time, lest I make him late too. On my best days I'm kind of like the Tazmanian Devil whirling through the house – the Aggie trying jump out of my path so he doesn't risk becoming part of my swath of destruction. So you can imagine how I fall apart when unforeseen, yet regular, wardrobing problems occur. Like when buttons pop off or zippers jump track, jewelry (that I have mentally planned your outfit around) disappears or a wayward strand of hair insists on making me look like Alfalfa's long lost sister.
Today it was a sizing issue. Every woman in American knows what that means. But for the men out there reading I'll explain: It’s a phenomenon that occurs when you are putting on familiar item of clothing (usually a staple of your wardrobe) and discover that something has happened in the last week to cause that article to no longer fit. Sometimes it’s a skirt that won't fit over our hips. Sometimes it's dress pants that suddenly give a giant camel toe. Sometimes item is just too small all the way around and requires we lay down flat on the bed and suck in our breath before the zipper will go up. Now, the sane part of us knows that this is probably just a water weight gain – a natural fluctuation. However, other 99 percent of our brain screams OH MY GOD YOU FAT ASS YOU HAVE GAINED MORE WEIGHT. Guess which part we listen to?
Rarely (and I can't express how rarely, but it's rare-rare) you run across the anti-phenomenon: Clothing that is unexplainably too big. Now, while this seems on the surface like a great problem to have, the timing of such an event can reek holy havoc on your morning routine. And that is precisely what happened to me today. I had pulled out a brand new pair of black gouchos to wear to work today. I had tried them on two days ago in the store and paid – brace yourself -- $2.95 for them. They fit like a glove. It was smart, useful purchase. Needless to say I was pretty excided about wearing my $3 pants. Imagine my surprise when I pull them up over my hips and they FALL RIGHT BACK OFF and puddle around my ankles on the floor. I was so shocked that I tried three more times to pull them up and force them to stay on my hips, but it was no use. They were huge on me – way too big. Like I could put them on and Cirque du Sole could still hold their matinee in those pants.
Thus the tone for my morning was set. I hurried, picked out something else to wear – another of my bargain finds, a $3 navy blue shirt. I paired it with my brown slacks, slipped the first matching pair of brown shoes I could find and quickly hurried out the door to meet my carpool ride. Then the morning progressed as usual. I went to work, did my job things, met with folks about projects, discussed upcoming deadlines, etc. I had dealt with about 10 people, most of who are colleuges or my superiors. When I had a spare second I ran to the ladies room and when I walked by my reflection I noticed that something wasn't quite right. I stood there staring at myself, adjusting stray hairs and smoothing out my lip-gloss. It took a full minute of staring at myself before I realized what seemed odd: My shirt appeared to be inside out.
Since the shirt was a new item I couldn't remember if it was one of those shirts with the seams on the outside so I reached behind my neck to feel where the tag would be. To my horror, my fingers grazed what was clearly the sizing tag, hanging out for the world to see. I had – for four hours – not only been wearing my clothing inside out but also broadcasting the reality of my largeness to all my coworkers. The only comfort I have is that my hair is long and was down, thus shielding my stupidity to some extent.
I think it says a lot about me that I'm way more upset over the folks I work with seeing what size I wear than being embarrassed that I went all over campus with my shirt inside out. Also this is yet another thing I need to add to my daily checklist before leaving the house in the morning. It will go right after "take happy pills" but right before "don't forget keys."
Today it was a sizing issue. Every woman in American knows what that means. But for the men out there reading I'll explain: It’s a phenomenon that occurs when you are putting on familiar item of clothing (usually a staple of your wardrobe) and discover that something has happened in the last week to cause that article to no longer fit. Sometimes it’s a skirt that won't fit over our hips. Sometimes it's dress pants that suddenly give a giant camel toe. Sometimes item is just too small all the way around and requires we lay down flat on the bed and suck in our breath before the zipper will go up. Now, the sane part of us knows that this is probably just a water weight gain – a natural fluctuation. However, other 99 percent of our brain screams OH MY GOD YOU FAT ASS YOU HAVE GAINED MORE WEIGHT. Guess which part we listen to?
Rarely (and I can't express how rarely, but it's rare-rare) you run across the anti-phenomenon: Clothing that is unexplainably too big. Now, while this seems on the surface like a great problem to have, the timing of such an event can reek holy havoc on your morning routine. And that is precisely what happened to me today. I had pulled out a brand new pair of black gouchos to wear to work today. I had tried them on two days ago in the store and paid – brace yourself -- $2.95 for them. They fit like a glove. It was smart, useful purchase. Needless to say I was pretty excided about wearing my $3 pants. Imagine my surprise when I pull them up over my hips and they FALL RIGHT BACK OFF and puddle around my ankles on the floor. I was so shocked that I tried three more times to pull them up and force them to stay on my hips, but it was no use. They were huge on me – way too big. Like I could put them on and Cirque du Sole could still hold their matinee in those pants.
Thus the tone for my morning was set. I hurried, picked out something else to wear – another of my bargain finds, a $3 navy blue shirt. I paired it with my brown slacks, slipped the first matching pair of brown shoes I could find and quickly hurried out the door to meet my carpool ride. Then the morning progressed as usual. I went to work, did my job things, met with folks about projects, discussed upcoming deadlines, etc. I had dealt with about 10 people, most of who are colleuges or my superiors. When I had a spare second I ran to the ladies room and when I walked by my reflection I noticed that something wasn't quite right. I stood there staring at myself, adjusting stray hairs and smoothing out my lip-gloss. It took a full minute of staring at myself before I realized what seemed odd: My shirt appeared to be inside out.
Since the shirt was a new item I couldn't remember if it was one of those shirts with the seams on the outside so I reached behind my neck to feel where the tag would be. To my horror, my fingers grazed what was clearly the sizing tag, hanging out for the world to see. I had – for four hours – not only been wearing my clothing inside out but also broadcasting the reality of my largeness to all my coworkers. The only comfort I have is that my hair is long and was down, thus shielding my stupidity to some extent.
I think it says a lot about me that I'm way more upset over the folks I work with seeing what size I wear than being embarrassed that I went all over campus with my shirt inside out. Also this is yet another thing I need to add to my daily checklist before leaving the house in the morning. It will go right after "take happy pills" but right before "don't forget keys."
1 comments:
I am glad to know your hair was down!
I wore a fabulous purple button down shirt today open over a black tank. It had the cutest sparkly buttons! I got a really good deal on it also- I traded my huband's manual labor for it!
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