I am not an overly stylish person. I LIKE my Levis, athletic shorts, t-shirts and hoodies for my day to day wear. My job doesn't require me to dress up and I don't often deal w/ the public during normal working hours. Hell, some days my version of getting ready for work is as simple as putting a bra on, washing my face, brushing my teeth and pulling on a ball cap. I am just not very high maintenance. When a situation (wedding or funeral) arises that calls for me to wear a skirt or dress, I usually have to go shopping and buy something for the occasion. I will spend hours searching for that outfit that I see myself wearing in my head. Eventually, I will say screw it and grab what version of the black skirt/dress that will fit and run for my sanity. Inevitably, after wearing said outfit, it will get moved to the back of the closet and the next season will be donated to a charity for someone else to use. To say I value my comfort would be a slight understatement. BUT, with that being said, there are times when I like to spruce up a bit. To me, this involves adding a belt to my Levis, putting on a shirt that doesn't have a swoosh or beer can on it, and pulling on a pair of boots. WHAMMO, I am DRESSED UP! Ain't life great?
That was my life up until a couple months ago. I am not sure what has came over me but I am going to assume an alien invasion has either robbed me of my hormones or injected a whole shit load more of them. Fucking aliens! It seems like anymore I find myself waking up a bit earlier in the morning so I can do my hair and make up. And damnit, I now own a freaking skirt. What the HELL is going on?? Ok, I have to admit, I haven't actually worn the damn thing yet, but it is there, hanging in my closet, taunting me every single time I walk in there, the little bitch.
For some reason today I decided to stop in and look for a skirt or dress for an upcoming seminar I am going to. I walk around the first store and this overly helpful clerk promptly pounces on me asking what she can get for me. I mumble "nothing, just looking" as I glare around the store. Usually, my grumpy glare will scare folks off. Nope, not Super Clerk. I am swishing through racks, trying to find something that speaks to me or at the very least something that won't look like I am wearing a shower curtain. Super Clerk finally decides I am looking for a skirt. She starts dragging skirts in from all over the store to show me, knowing that I would just look "super cute" in this one. I continually veto her selections as I browse. Finally, she shows me a black skirt. Hmm, that's actually kinda cute. Decent length, handkerchief hemline, not too tailored but not to casual. I tell her that I like that one. She says "O-M-G" (the initials, not the whole phrase. Ugh, god save me from 20 year old bimbos) and hands me the skirt. Hold it, this is a small. In no known universe am I a small. Rarely am I a medium, most often a large. "But wait," says Super Clerk, "it has a SUPER stretchy waist......and we only have it in small". I give her the "eat shit and die" look and away she scampers. Screw it, I am done with this place. Off to the next store.
Wow, I feel like I have stepped into a time machine and flew back to the 70's and NOT in a good way. This store is very bright. There are shower curtains..er, I mean dresses everywhere. Paisley print, chiffon, flowers, and leopard print are hanging everywhere. I giggle to myself as I start my browsing. At least in this store the clerk caught the "leave me alone and let me look" body language right off the bat and just told me to holler if she could help. Smart girl! I work my way through the store, sighing, snorting and sometimes down right laughing at some of the prints/patterns. I really don't think the clerk enjoyed my ongoing nonverbal commentary and picture taking, but she still stayed back a safe distance and let me do my thing. I finally stumble upon a skirt that catches my eye: Longer skirt with a manageable slit up the leg, subtle pattern, in a normal color. I take it into the dressing room, kinda excited that maybe I found something. Ooooo, I liked it. Fit was perfect, flats, heals or boots all three would work with it, finding a top to wear would be a cinch, etc. I stepped out to look in the big 3 way mirror to get the full effect. I am twisting and turning, trying to see if my ass looks huge in this, etc. I hear a snort from beside me. The clerk asks me if I like the dress. I said, "yes, I like this SKIRT, I think it would be perfect for what I need". Again, I hear the smirk in her tone as she informs me "That isn't a skirt, it's a dress!" There is no freaking way that this is a dress. With the top of the "dress" sitting on my natural waist, the hemline just goes slightly below my knees. A dress??? At this point I really think the clerk is enjoying my utter disbelief. She goes and shows me a picture from their catalog and Yup, I'll be damned, it is a dress. I don't know how anyone over 5'2" could possibly wear this as a dress without their girl parts showing, but hey, what the hell do I know? I know that I can no longer tell a skirt from a dress and that's about it. Screw it, I am getting a milk shake and going HOME!
I have come to the conclusion that I need a personal shopper. Someone who will take me shopping in a blindfold, pick out appropriate clothing and dress me in it. I am only allowed to see what has been picked after the transaction is complete. Otherwise I will veto any and all selections because they just aren't me. Interviews start next week. Skills needed: patience, ability to color coordinate, and some light bartending skills are needed...apply in person!
Happy Frustrated Friday Folks!
