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Nondescript
Apr. 10th, 2007 09:59 pmThis afternoon I was informed that I'll be going to the client meeting tomorrow. And that's cool, because I'll get to meet them and present the work that I've done. The only problem was that I have nothing to wear to an event like this. It's a "no jeans" affair, and I don't have much other than denim to clothe my lower half. So I had to get something this evening after work. It's lucky I work one block west of the Magnificent Mile here in Chicago, so I didn't have far to go to get to Banana Republic, where I tried on armloads of clothes. I eventually settled on this nondescript black skirt for seventy-something bucks.
I couldn't get any of the pants because they wouldn't easily be paired with any of my tall leather boots, and I really didn't feel like going shoe shopping, especially not for nondescript shoes.
Shopping for nondescript apparel pisses me off. Everything looked ridiculous on me tonight. All the sweaters hung awkwardly and made me look like a skeleton. The pants bunched up around my crotch and the side pockets made me look like I had massive, misshaped hips*. The dresses all seemed to be designed for women who have low hanging breasts. It made me feel like I was a child playing dress up - but in a nightmare or something. I got frustrated and felt like crying or lashing out at one of the sales clerks. "Who the hell designed this crap?!"
I was reminded of when I was a kid and had to dress up for church. I hated it. My mother bought me frilly stuff - dresses with lace that itched. White tights that fit uncomfortably. Shoes that slipped around on my feet. The only good thing about Sundays was the fact that sometimes, after church, my family would all go out to eat at a restaurant. That was the BEST. Sometimes we'd get chinese (egg rolls and sweet and sour chicken!) or mexican (the chicken flautas!) or we'd go to this little place in Naperville and get onion soup and ruben sandwiches (so greasy! so good!). Other times we went to a restaurant just a block or so from my parent's house, The Country House, and got burgers. They had the biggest steak fries EVER at the Country House.
So anyway, yeah. Big client meeting tomorrow. Gotta look nice.
I should go to bed now.
*What the F**king F**k!?
I couldn't get any of the pants because they wouldn't easily be paired with any of my tall leather boots, and I really didn't feel like going shoe shopping, especially not for nondescript shoes.
Shopping for nondescript apparel pisses me off. Everything looked ridiculous on me tonight. All the sweaters hung awkwardly and made me look like a skeleton. The pants bunched up around my crotch and the side pockets made me look like I had massive, misshaped hips*. The dresses all seemed to be designed for women who have low hanging breasts. It made me feel like I was a child playing dress up - but in a nightmare or something. I got frustrated and felt like crying or lashing out at one of the sales clerks. "Who the hell designed this crap?!"
I was reminded of when I was a kid and had to dress up for church. I hated it. My mother bought me frilly stuff - dresses with lace that itched. White tights that fit uncomfortably. Shoes that slipped around on my feet. The only good thing about Sundays was the fact that sometimes, after church, my family would all go out to eat at a restaurant. That was the BEST. Sometimes we'd get chinese (egg rolls and sweet and sour chicken!) or mexican (the chicken flautas!) or we'd go to this little place in Naperville and get onion soup and ruben sandwiches (so greasy! so good!). Other times we went to a restaurant just a block or so from my parent's house, The Country House, and got burgers. They had the biggest steak fries EVER at the Country House.
So anyway, yeah. Big client meeting tomorrow. Gotta look nice.
I should go to bed now.
*What the F**king F**k!?
