Wednesday, October 29, 2014

The working life with engineers: My new wardrobe plan

Texas Home T

I wrote recently that the engineers I work with do not notice what I wear. At first, I was a little bit bothered by this because why bother to shower and dress and put on minimal makeup if nobody is going to notice? Why bother to do it if there are almost no other women around and you have nobody to compare yourself to? Why bother to do it if you have to keep your coat on all day anyhow because even though it might be a rare 70-degree day in Wisconsin, your building is ice cold?

But now I realize I have been given a great gift. I no longer have to care about what I wear to work. Not that I am going to become a slob, but - I am going to stop shopping. I am not going to spend money on new clothes. Or consignment store clothes. I have enough. Nobody at work notices if I wear the same thing week after week - which is what I have been doing. I used to think I had to have a lot of variety in my wardrobe, but now I realize that I do not. I can wear my brown skirt and orange sweater every Tuesday for the next year and my blue and white dress every Thursday and nobody would bat an eye. Nobody would notice. They would not notice because

1. They would not see what I am wearing in the first place because they do not look
2. They would not remember from week to week or even day to day what I wear.*

I am free. I am free from spending money and shopping and worrying. I just need to be covered from the neck to the knees and I will be fine.

The only exception I am making is for this t-shirt. I have ordered it. Actually, my sister is getting it for me for my birthday - I am ordering one for me and one for her and she will write me a check.

I bet if I looked like the model, my co-workers would remember what I wore. But this is reality.

* Except SH, who has a phenomenal, almost photographic memory for triviality, but does not seem to remember that he promised to clean his junk out of the basement six years ago before we even moved into the house. I believe that is called selective memory.

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