Sunday, March 23, 2014

Bumper Stunned Toads & Prison Pants

I had an interview for a much better position at work this week. Although it wouldn't take much to have a better position since I am the on-call do-it-all dogs body that does it all.

One of the things I did to prepare for the interview was buy a new outfit. I got a pair of pants that re almost identical to those from this Vogue photo, slubby silk stripped pillitzo, umm, plazato..hmm...  pants. The lady who I'd be working with came with me to pick out a semi-dressy, semi-casual interview outfit since this position involves interaction with the community and outsiders. I also bought the black tunic designed to go with the pants but didn't wear it. I ended up wearing a black twin set sweater. I looked good, fashionable for a change instead of old hippie wear.

But when Jim got home he wanted to know why I was wearing baggy prison pants or pants that looked like I'd stole them from the set of "Beetlejuice". So much for fashion. I thought I looked good.

Dressing since leaving fundamentalism has always been something of an up and down roller coaster ride, a balancing act between me exhibiting my artistic side and expressing myself through my clothing and fitting in enough to have a job.

That was the big excitement of this week. Only other noteworthy thing that happened was some work intrigue I'll detail later this week and today. Got up this morning, oxygen levels in my shoes decided it was a lay on the sofa, crochet and gorge on Mad Men episodes. No church. Jim went to church, I stayed home and treated myself kindly. Bumper stunned toad on the sofa

That's another thing I've learned post-fundieland: when you aren't well you have to take care of yourself. Fuck everyone elses needs and expectations. You do what you need because everything else can wait.

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