Let Yourself Go

Wednesday for the first time - like ever in my professional life - I wore my hair in a pony tail to work. Maybe that doesn't seem like a big deal, but people I'm telling you normally l blow my hair out and put on an extra coat of mascara just to take out the trash. A pony tail to work, for me represents an unprecedented level of lazy personal grooming*.

Now that the deed is done and the pony tail has been debuted, and even though I kind of liked it and many of my coworkers remarked about how nice it looked, I worry that it's all downhill from here. To prove my point - the pants I wore on Wednesday began to disintegrate shortly after my arrival to the office, probably dying of embarrassment from being seen in public with me and my lazy-ass pony tail head. The hems of both legs came undone. Both legs - what the frigg?

I handled the situation with relative style and ease like fuckin' McGuyver. Not really. I stapled the hems of my pants. With a stapler. I walked around all day with the hems of my pants visibly stapled and I wore a pony tail. The end is nigh and it's all my fault. I'm sorry.

Not convinced that end of times is come? Today I wore open toed sandals to work. Stock your shelters.

In my defense, I'm dog tired dude. I'm sorry to "dude" you, but holy shit I'm having a difficult time adjusting to my new summer schedule. I've been getting up at the crack of my ass (otherwise known as 5:30am), hopping directly in the shower and running off to work as soon as I'm dry. Stopping briefly, of course, on my way out the door to throw on some clothes and slop some coffee into a travel mug.

My old schedule had me getting out of bed at 6:30, then schlepping around in slippers and a haze for as long as I needed, taking my damn sweet time for the wake up portion of my day.

Coffee at my leisure.

Breakfast?

Sure, why not? Don't mind if I do.

I was pretty much able to take my damn sweet time to make myself beautiful and plan my outfit for work too. It was good times.

Anyhoo... I do not remember the last time I wore a pony tail in public that I wasn't performing yard work and even then I never crossed our property line. I do a quick mirror check and touch up my lipstick to go to the window to yell at the neighbors dog.

Do you understand that I am tightly wound?

I cannot explain and have no excuse for the open toed sandals. They are cute and it's the Friday beginning a holiday weekend so there was no one at the office today to see and judge my janky toes. Besides it was a half day so get off my back.

*Pony tails are pefectly fine and I have seen that many of my fellow lady folk are able to pass off a stylish, professional pony tail and any number of inventive and chic bun, updo and twisty hair creations, but I personally do not have that level of confidence. When I attempt to step out the door wearing a pony tail I hear my mothers voice in my head asking me with a sneer, "how much longer will it take for you to get ready dear? I can wait if you'd like to finish combing your hair".

So technically I don't have a problem with pony tails, my mother does. Or at least the voice in my head that sounds like my mother does. Whatever - bottom line is: Pony tails are fine, but not for me. I can't poop in the woods or wear flip flops either, but those are entirely different topics, although the source of all of my quirks and neurosis is the same.