Do the Easy Ones First

October 7th, 2009

Well, so far it’s been only about half a year without shopping.*

*The deal was that I wouldn’t shop for clothes, shoes, or handbags from about the end of April to about the end of April.  Technically, I’ve obeyed the maxim.  I did exercise my replacement clause recently when I purchased a couple of bathing suits.  The two that I have been wearing all summer–one of them is at least six or seven years old, the other about five or so, are on their last legs.   The first one’s elastic has gotten to a point where I fear it will break while I am wearing it, which would spell disaster and possible arrest, since it’s the bottom part that’s in perilous condition.  The other has a bandeau top and the top edge is starting to roll down, which is unsightly and risks exposure.  Not that I haven’t been there before, but it’s no good for actual swimming in the ocean, which is frustrating.  So, because it’s the end of the season and the few stores that still have bathing suits have them super cheap, I went ahead on Mom’s advice and hit up the Dillard’s.  I got two bathing suits for about $50; one of them, I got two different tops for.  The first one was normally $96, and the other would have been about $190 for all three pieces.  I couldn’t see waiting until next year and then getting one suit for twice what I got these two for.  Photos:

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I also have to admit that although I haven’t bought clothes of late, I have still been using shopping as my therapy when I am depressed or cranked up to eleven from my extremely stressful job.  I bought a framed poster and a lamp for my living room, each $20, and orange Buddha head, also for the living room, since I had a sconce thingy with nothing on it.  I must say the lamp was a near necessity, since I only had one source of light in here.  Here’s the stuff:

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I don’t really care about Jimi Hendrix, but it goes with my India flavored living room.  It solved a design problem, allowing me to move what used to hang in that spot into the dining area, which previously had nothing at all on the walls.

That’s the thing I want to say about shopping, and why it works as therapy–it provides a concrete solution to an identifiable problem.  You need skinny jeans to wear with your new plaid shirt?  You want short cowboy boots to wear with your cutoff denim skirt?  Those things can be relatively easily solved, and when you’re finished, you have a small sense of accomplishment and something new to wear that you feel good in.  It’s nothing at all like “Am I in the right line of work?” or “How do I stop loving someone who ins’t available to me?”

If I could solve those problems with my credit card, no matter the price, I’d swipe it and sign.

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Something is Missing

September 2nd, 2009

Don’t you just love the first day of school?  The new school supplies, the excitement of a new schedule, new people, and, of course, new clothes.  When I was a kid, my mom never did a major shop for me to kick off the new school year.  We were broke and upwardly mobile, so a new wardroe bought on credit or with the rent money was out of the question. 

But now that I’m grown and have my own money, I usually do a big shop for clothes, shoes, and handbags twice a year–once in fall and once in spring.  Last year, my fall shop came to about $700 dollars, none of which went on a credit card.  Like I said, I don’t have a shopping problem, per se.  I budget for these things.  This year was different, of course.

This year, the night before the first day of school, I felt a little uneasy, and I couldn’t figure out why.  Something felt absent; out of place.  It dawned on me right around the time I should have been going to bed.  It wasn’t first day anxiety; it was the fact that I hadn’t given a thought to what I would wear.  In past years, I would have been looking forward not only to the new students and the new year, but also to the new outfit I’d planned just for this day.  I stared into the closet.  The same old stuff stared back at me.

By old, I have to admit, for most of this stuff, I only mean a year old.  The chartreuse/mustardy top with the blue flowered embroidery and boatneck collar that I ended up wearing was purchased last year from anthropologie, and in fact, I wore it to school on the first day last year, too.  It was a pretty blah feeling to be sporting the same gear for the same occasion two years in a row.  I tried to come up with some new combinations, but my work wardrobe is not as flexible as my going out or my casual one, and I’ve more or less exhausted all the possibilities already.

People who know me and know about this blog still playfully scrutinize me occasionally and ask if what I’m wearing is new.  I appreciate it, since it shows that they take an interest in me and what I’m doing.  Those are good friends.  Another thing I think it shows is that how we look is important to others, but maybe not as important as we think it is, and that they’re not looking at us thinking that we wear the same thing all the time.  To the people who love us and care about us most, it’s likely that what makes us look fresh is enthusiasm for what we are doing, joy, and the interest we show in them.

I really do want a new handbag, though.  And my workout wardrobe is pretty tired, and since I’m in desperate need of reshaping, that could be a bit of a challenge.  I’m not one of those women who goes to the gym, or even wants to, in full makeup, jewelry, and a coordinated outfit down to the socks.  I don’t go to the gym so I can look good at the gym; I go to the gym so I can look good when I’m not at the gym, i.e., living my life.  Exercise is part of my life, but it’s not a part I feel like I need to dress up for.  I’m there to get sweaty and feel gritty, not to get pretty and feel girly. 

My friend Sarah and I are thinking of training for a half-marathon in January, so I feel motivated to build my stamina on the treadmill.  I love the treadmill; it’s the only time  I watch t.v.  I have to admit, though, I feel a little like a hamster, since I think of it as a cable subscription that only works when I run.  Same $70 a month, waaaaaay better result.

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Seeing is Believing

May 19th, 2009

I get to think of myself as a level-headed, calm, and reasonably patient, sane person for two reasons. One is that I don’t have to drive much during rush hour. If, like today, I have to drive two miles on the interstate and it takes me twenty-five minutes in the pouring rain, I begin to see myself a little differently. Like as a raving, steaming, swearing bitch with an overall negative opinion of her fellow denizens. What makes people drive six miles an hour just because it’s raining? Logically it makes more sense to increase following distance than it does to slow down, but that’s not what people do. What they do is tailgate, but slow down until they can read the odometer in the car next to them. 

The other thing that has allowed me to see myself in a mostly positive light most of the time is my detachment from the actual function of and (lack of) collegial responsibility at my place of employment.  For the past five or six years, I mostly show up and do my job and stay out of all the shit that doesn’t make any sense, ignore the incompetent fools that complicate things for others, and then I go home.  Lately my responsibilities have increased a little, and so has my blood pressure, and not because of the added accountability.  It’s people that make it so frustrating.  How would a restaurant function if you had eleven executive chefs and two sous chefs?  I’ll tell you:  There’d be twelve sets of rules, nine different menus, 13 to the nth power personality conflicts, no fire under the burners, an empty dining room, and a walk-in full of spoiled food.  The server would die of cirrhosis after a long and complicated courtship with the bartender since there’d be nothing else for them to do.

When decisions are made in the most effective organizations, I imagine they follow some sort of chain of command.  I feel like I’m running in Lewis Carroll’s caucus race!  How many people are involved in optimal decision making processes, whom do they tell what decision was made, who has the authority to override it, what ramifications are in place for those that refuse to cooperate or just plain don’t do their jobs?  A woman I work with has a saying for the newly initiated:  ”Whenever you find yourself going, ‘hey, wouldn’t it make more sense if…’ you can just stop right there, because that’s not how we’re going to do it.”

Go ahead and laugh, it’s your money.

It turns out that maybe I am not as sane and patient as I like to think I am.  I might be an angry, negative person who is barely holding it together.  From what I have seen today (and let’s be real:  lots of other days too), I suspect that might be more true than I like to think.

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