Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Black jeans

It's a good thing I forgot my ID.

This morning I was off to a meeting with a potential client and realized he had mentioned bringing an ID to get into his building, which I didn’t have. Now that I’m not dragging my massive carry-all to work everyday I never have my wallet with me anymore (just some cash and a credit card). I ran home and, while there, happened to catch sight of myself in a mirror.

Even when I was working at an office I often left home without looking at myself. I threw on sunglasses dropped the kids at school and put myself together in the office bathroom. I’ve always been a dirty t-shirt weekend dresser but I made up for it at work. Believe it or not, just a year ago I was thought of as pretty stylish. To the point that, on the rare day I wore flats, folks were astonished at how short I really am without giant heels on.

So, flash forward to today. Six months of working at home and I am incapable of wearing anything but Converse and the SAME PAIR of black jeans. My hair is GREASY. I’m one of probably 10 women in Manhattan who hasn’t gone for that first Spring pedicure (why bother when you wear Converse?).

I know I just wrote about selling my work clothes but I still have a lot of nice stuff. Somehow it seems too daunting to put something “real” on. Now that I have more time you’d think I’d pluck my eyebrows and play with clothes I couldn’t get away with at the office yet I can barely wash my face. What is it about my new situation that makes me want to give up on maintenance? (My house is a mess too, BTW.)

I’m afraid I’ve lost my “edge.” Ironically, this was a big fear before my first child came into the picture. I saw myself wearing polar fleece and mom jeans as if they were a organic part of parenting. The fear was so sreal that I started wearing the giant heels in the pre Roma months—sort of a preemptive strike against dowdyness. I wouldn’t call myself dowdy today—Can one really be dowdy a NYC resident? I think there is an ejector button that eliminates all who fall that low.)—just a bit dirty and unmade (like a bed).

In case you’re wondering, I did manage to throw on a better shirt and some mascara on for the meeting. I did however forget the ID (again).

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