Do you ever have days where you wear something sort of unusual or dressy, and as you are getting ready you secretly think of how cool it is that you'll probably get a nice compliment or two about it? And then nobody says a word, so you are convinced that you look like a giant doof? That's me today.
I have to go to this fancy dinner tonight, some thing to honor some philanthropy dude, and dressy business attire is absolutely the thing I am worst at. I can do ballgowns and baseball caps and most anything in between, except for that one weird area. The one that requires something nicer than slacks and a sweater, but not quite as nice as a cocktail dress. So I usually wear this long black skirt and black boots, with a bright red button-up shirt. But I'm beginning to hate this outfit since I wear it far too often to these business-attire things. So anyway, inspired by my recent loss of nearly seven pounds, I dug my black business suit out of the closet. The one I bought for a job interview a few years ago and never wore again. To my great surprise, it fit great. So I paired it with a stretchy black and white swirly top from Ann Taylor and walked out of the bedroom and said gaily to my husband, "So, is this OK for tonight?" He looked over for roughly 2.3 seconds and was like, "Sure." Then he turned back to his computer. Hm. Not exactly surprising that he wouldn't want to gab fashion with me before he has even finished his first cup of coffee. So I forget it and head to work, SURE that I will hear choruses of "Wow!" or "Hold the phone! Who's that hot mama?!" But, um, no. Nobody even said a word. So now I am sitting in here thinking that either (a) I am typically such a swell dresser that wearing a business suit blends right in with the rest of my fabulous wardrobe; or more likely (b) everyone in my office is sending secret e-mails to each other right now wondering where the hell she picked up that lesbo outfit.
I have to go to this fancy dinner tonight, some thing to honor some philanthropy dude, and dressy business attire is absolutely the thing I am worst at. I can do ballgowns and baseball caps and most anything in between, except for that one weird area. The one that requires something nicer than slacks and a sweater, but not quite as nice as a cocktail dress. So I usually wear this long black skirt and black boots, with a bright red button-up shirt. But I'm beginning to hate this outfit since I wear it far too often to these business-attire things. So anyway, inspired by my recent loss of nearly seven pounds, I dug my black business suit out of the closet. The one I bought for a job interview a few years ago and never wore again. To my great surprise, it fit great. So I paired it with a stretchy black and white swirly top from Ann Taylor and walked out of the bedroom and said gaily to my husband, "So, is this OK for tonight?" He looked over for roughly 2.3 seconds and was like, "Sure." Then he turned back to his computer. Hm. Not exactly surprising that he wouldn't want to gab fashion with me before he has even finished his first cup of coffee. So I forget it and head to work, SURE that I will hear choruses of "Wow!" or "Hold the phone! Who's that hot mama?!" But, um, no. Nobody even said a word. So now I am sitting in here thinking that either (a) I am typically such a swell dresser that wearing a business suit blends right in with the rest of my fabulous wardrobe; or more likely (b) everyone in my office is sending secret e-mails to each other right now wondering where the hell she picked up that lesbo outfit.
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