Those boots people. Look at them. Love them. Often, a woman is not satisfied with how she looks unless she is calm within herself. This will be my challenge as I go about growing up.
My look, right now, is best described as stylish, thrift-store chic Mom. That is only on weekends and at night. During my day, as I go about tending to those living in the ghetto, well, I wear a lot of Goodwill clothes. My patients are often heavy, heavy smokers. My clothes get all funked up. So, I wear clothes that are clean and such. But they are Goodwill quality.
I am about to transition from the home health care to a real clinic. I will have my own office (squeak with delight!) And while those that walk through my office door may be disheveled, I feel it is my duty to look put together and attractive. Wearing just a touch of make-up.
After all, if you are in my office, you are most likely not feeling well. Not feeling well in the head. That carries it's own special kind of scary. Like being on a plane that is experiencing turbulence. You look to the stewardess to see if she is freaking out. But she is not, she is there, all put together, hair untosselled.
This is also why I am going to be starting a boot camp. I have lost 35 lbs but I am a weakling. I plan to building girly guns to help lift my patients up. And as I advise them about their self care, I want them to see I walk the walk.
There are a few barriers here. I don't shop well. Especially for pants. No woman likes shopping for pants. If you are a man, you only have to know two numbers for this task. Even if you land on Mars, you can still walk into a store blindfolded, and tell the salesgirl those two numbers and viola! Pants that fit.
For women it goes like this (to the salesgirl on Mars): Ahem, I am Mrs. Hall and in the Juniors section I am a size 9-11, Missess section, 4-6.
Go ahead, ask any woman what her jean size is. If she doesn't give you two sets of ranges then she is lying. Wait, don't ever ask a woman what her jeans size is. Bad idea.
OK THEN, MOVING ON.
Another barrier is that I am profoundly cheap. Hence the mountains of crappy, dollar store clothes that don't fit right. This is not the grown up way of shopping.
Thus, tonight I shopped for an hour and half. Tried on 50 some pairs of pants to find 2 that fit correctly. But that is not all. For the last year or so I have been slowly acquiring dresses.
O MY DEAR LORD IN HEAVEN!
At my new job, I get to wear dresses every day. That fact alone has made the student loans more palpable.
And I must say. I was kind of shocked while trying on those pants. I don't actually have full length mirrors at my house. So, I am still very surprised at my new, fit body. And I must say, I do look smoking in my new pants. But, in a very grown up way.
Posts
