The only agenda item my manager brought to the table at yesterdays branch meeting was the corporate produced memo about professional dress.
Today, I figure if always stand up straight, my button down collared shirt is long enough to cover the pockets and zipper of my pink jeans (that one person thought were linen slacks, don't hate).
The regional manager decides, after a week of threatening to be in our office, that today is the day.
I sit in my chair ALL MORNING so she can't possibly catch a glimpse of what are so obviously jeans pockets OR my open toed sandals (they have a moderate heel, but still).
Woman-ness is amazing in so many ways.
There are certain days however when all womanly parts can take a flying leap out my 15th story window.
Today, thanks to Aunt Flo and her always amazingly timed visits, was a day like this.
In an ibuprofen haze, I traipse through Target looking for a new outfit to wear.
Everything is XXXL. No Joke. If it wasn't a tent, it was maternity wear.
Even a dress would have been an improvement on my current situation, and since I have shaved this week, a skirt to match my dress shirt would have been worn out of the dressing room.
Somehow I refuse to pay $30 for a pair of ill-fitting AND off color anything, even if they would stay on without suspenders.
As I'm wondering why this had to be the week I cleaned out my car and the 5 pairs of shoes and 4 pair of pants and 3 gym outfits out of my backseat, I ponder the awesome coincidence of it all. Then curse under my breath at every step toward the Shout It Out stick of purse sized detergent that might get me out of this.
On my way I pass the lingerie.
"At least clean panties would be some improvement" and I continue with the internal Tazmanian Devil talk.
So, with the regional manager in the office, I come back from lunch, late, with my drive thru food in hand, in PJ pants.
Salvation comes in navy blue cotton with an M on the tag next to the $10 red sticker.
The day after the memo about professional dress in the office, and on the morning I cave to the call of the jeans, I end up this afternoon sitting Indian style in my chair in pants with an elastic waistband.
How is your Thank-Jebus-Its-Not-Monday turning out?
EDIT: I LOVE when Laurie comes back with an edit, and with the reading of all her most recent posts in a row this afternoon, she is part of the reason I needed to post today.
Also I must credit Mr. Techie, who is the reason for the post more directly as this started as an email to him. I thought he might get the fun of the corporate policy smackdown meaning just nothing to me when I dressed myself TWICE today.
And I will grace you all with a bit of why he is at the forfront of my workday thougthts, his reply:
Do you write poetry? You must at least keep a journal.
Though not one to have me giggling or falling out of my chair in a spasm of laughter, he DID manage to put a smile on my sourpuss face today, and for that I bombard his email DAILY.