Hellooo It's Moanday

No I did not misspell it, that is usually how I spell Monday.    

Sometimes Monday is exciting because it is the first day of some new project that you are starting either professionally or personally.  Beginnings are exciting because they are fueled by possibilities, we always think of the best outcomes.  We picture ourselves executing our plans, moving forward, coming up with solutions and finding a way to get it done.   

Then other times, Mondays are such a sea change from the weekend that it is hard to shift back into the “git-r-done” mindset.  We weigh ourselves down with heavy thoughts of what we should do and look at the long week ahead as filled with drudgery.  Well that’s no fun, what if instead we could think of it as just another day? 

Forget being perfect.  Just show up, do the best you can, and have something fun to look forward to at the end of the day.  Maybe play a game of catch with the kids, have takeout night on Monday instead of Friday, or put on some great music, and dance it out.  Come on think! There’s something that you like to do, what is it?  Tick Tock, this is your life, right now. 

Fabulous at Work, Beautiful Justine

I am sure that you know  a "Beautiful Justine," she is that Fabulous Grrl in your office who always looks like a million bucks.  She has got the couture outfits down dahling, with THE perfect accessories to boot. (Oh and her boots, to die for!)

We have quite a few Beautiful Justines at my office. I am referring to the outside sales ladies from a whole different county, Massachusetts, who visit our office from time to time. (I work in NH so go ahead and insert joke here about my flannel shirt and work boots.)  They are so petite and ladylike, with shiny perfect hair and glowing radiant skin. I am almost 6’ tall with hair so big and wiry that I could hide several pencils in there, and I sometimes do.  But on the 2 or 3 days a month that I have a good hair day I aspire to be Justine.

Today a co worker said to me, “You always look great.”  I’m thinking, “Dude, you obviously didn’t see me last Thursday, you’d want to gouge your eyes out.” 

Even though I can’t sustain that level of fashionista I admire the Justines of the world who can. Just tell me dahling, “Where did you get those killer shoes?”

Laughable Late Letter

Oh the aggravation of delivery issues! I recently received one of those letters, you know the one where the factory tries to quiet the angry masses storming their email boxes with metaphorical pitchfork in hand.

The letter starts off well enough acknowledging the problem, late deliveries and trouble getting answers.  Then it goes into how they are trying to grow their business and are adding R & D and on about their growing pains into new divisions but no word on how I get my parts. Bottom line, 14 pronouns for “us” and only 6 for “you” our customer, it is very clear whose interest the writer had in mind and it clearly wasn’t my build plan. 

Little tip; I don’t care about growing pains, I want to know one thing, when do I get my parts?  I think they got their letter to their customers and the letter to potential investors mixed up.  I have to say, it wasn’t a completely wasted effort, it did make me laugh. 

Have you ever received a “sorry” letter that made you laugh?

Does This Shirt Make My Head Look Fat?

My friend Deanna and I were talking about how trying on clothes really sucks. How can one pair of jeans make my ass look fat and another pair make it look flat as a pancake? Ooh pancake jeans, flatten your booty. Uh, no thanks, another pair for the pile.

Then she told me how she bought two pair of the exact same jeans, same size, everything. She tried on the first pair, approved, and grabbed the second pair. (We savvy shoppers know when you find something that fits and looks fabulous that you buy two because it is so hard to get that combination.) Anyhow, she gets home and puts on the second pair, yes that’s right, no fit. How can that be?

Maybe it was just a quality issue with the patterns. Maybe some hard working lady at the factory was distracted, and oopsie, just swerved a few stitches in the wrong direction. Or maybe somebody has a bit of the practical joker in them and thought it would be fun to take some of those size 12 tags and put them on size 7’s thinking, that ought to freak some lady out.

I had a pair of bike shorts that I bought just like my friend, oh sure get two pairs. Well, one leg was a bit tighter than the other. It’s lycra so you don’t notice right away but after a few minutes I’m thinking, “I know I might have done a few extra squats on that other leg but come on now. This is ridiculous.” And I’m feeling like a pirate with a wooden leg, unbalanced and wobbly. People are thinking, why is that leg so much skinnier than the other? What is wrong with you? No it’s just being compacted and it’s starting to dry up and wither. Hey, I only paid $4 for them. Circulation in my left leg, priceless.

Then there was the time I felt confident enough to go into a fancy (intimidating) shop with those perfectly coiffed salesladies, artsy jewelry, everything in there could be in Vogue magazine. I spotted this beautiful armless turtleneck. I get in the dressing room, strip to my bra, I cannot get this thing over my freaking head! One arm in, one out, no head, does…this…stretch? I cannot believe this. Seriously? Now my HEAD is too fat for this store. (You know those stores, oh if you’re over a size 4 don’t even bother coming in here fattie.) So I examine the rest of them; every single one of them has a head opening that only the shrunken head guy in that Beetlejuice movie could wear. Really? Now a tiny head is required for haute couture? I did notify the saleslady. But you know darn well that if that had been a leg hole instead of a head hole I would have gone into a week long ice cream medicated self loathing phase.

There are no standards for the sizes for ladies clothes. Men are size 34 or they simply are not. No kidding themselves, no poor fella thinking, no way I could have added four inches last year! The mirror might make you look skinny but the numbers don’t lie.

Now I scoff at those darn sizes and go for the fit. Nobody sees that darn tag anyway. One you get home cut off the offending digits.

I heard about an actress who had her tailor sew in size 4 tag to her clothes. Genius! Was woman created for the jeans, or jeans created for the woman? Our clothes should serve us, not the other way around. Now the entire rack is mine, I am not limited by a number sewn into a seam. I enjoy this newfound freedom by getting jeans with a great fit, in both legs, and no, they don’t make my head feel fat.