I am falling apart.
There was a time, back in the day, where I took pride in my work appearance. I reveled in the chance to wear cute skirts and adorable pumps to work. I enjoyed putting on my make up and never would have allowed myself to walk out of the house with wet hair! It would have dried in odd waves- and people would see it!
Those days are long gone it seems. I can’t remember the last time I even bothered to look for cute clothes for work. Every morning I stand in front of my closet (ok, piles of clothes) and try to pick something to wear. My criteria? Can’t have worn it the day before, needs to be stain free, not too wrinkled and comfortable. Sad state of affairs this.
Sometimes I shower in the morning, sometimes the night before. Doesn’t really matter. I don’t plan to make my hair look pretty. Its long now, so it kind of straightens itself out as it dries. I got straight across bangs cut a few months back, but I’m not sure why now. If I shower in the morning, I may or may not blow dry it. Its actually dependant on the weather. If its cold, I will blow dry (no sense getting sick), if its hot, I will not (too sticky, might as well shower again). As for make up, I have some in my house. I use it for special occasions. I used to put it on every day. But now? Why? So I can waste it here? No thanks. These days, I’m all about sunscreen and mascara.
John has told me that I have a tendency to exhibit “exit behavior” so maybe this is more of the same. I would like to counter and say that its not the clothes that make the (wo)man, but that would be pretentious horse s**t. Everyone knows that appearances matter, but at this point I can’t be bothered to care. Why make the effort? So that I can come to work and have sick days taken? Why blow dry my hair to be hauled into a meeting to talk about my feelings? Why buy a pretty new dress to spend the day sitting alone in my cubicle not talking to anyone? The dress will go unnoticed and its feelings will be hurt. And I don’t want to put a dress through that.
I should clarify (in light of my recent rant on appropriate office attire) that I don’t dress like I am going a club, working in construction or as an homage to a decade gone by. But I don’t buy new work clothes. I wear flip flops (my own personal f**k you). I don’t wear make up. And I wear a sad expression on my face. One day I will have a shiny new job and I will be wearing shiny new shoes to celebrate.
But for now? I don’t want to subject my shoes to miles of beige.