It all started when I left my pants at home.
Every morning I work out; often at my gym at work. Arrive at 7:00, workout till 8, shower and sit down at my desk by 8:30. Like clockwork. The problem with clockwork is nothing can go wrong. I can’t set my alarm for PM instead of AM. I can’t shave my legs if I started showering at 8:09. But most of all, I cannot forget my change of clothes.
My third day of work I forgot my suit, which I’d hung up and set down on the couch. Fortunately, Becky hadn’t started school and drove it out to me. Once I forgot my underwear and so wore wet panties under a skirt. Once I forgot my bra and had to wear my sportsbra under my blouse.
But I’ve never forgotten my pants.
The problem was that today is Friday. Fridays are casual days. In this lies both my damnation and salvation.
I pulled my blue jeans out of the laundry to pack into my gym bag last night. If I’m not mistaken, they’re still lying placidly on Becky’s bed. Never made it anywhere near the bag.
Blessedly, when I was putting on my gym clothes this morning, I couldn’t find my yoga pants and was forced to wear shorts. After my workout, as I was peeling off layers of sweaty fabric, I realized there were no blue jeans in my bag. I looked again. Still no blue jeans, but in a wad at the bottom of my bag, I found my yoga pants.
I called our Ops Manager, and asked, “Should I drive home or wear my yoga pants?” He said, “I don’t care. If someone from HR asks, tell ’em you thought you had a project on the roof today.” I thought this would work out fine, because I didn’t have any meetings, and even if I did, they wouldn’t require me to go by HR.
I put on my yoga pants and the pumpkin, cowl-necked sweater I’d brought. Because I hadn’t planned on my ankles being seen, I hadn’t brought a different set of shoes. I was also out of a clean pair of socks. So I walked into my Department with a business casual top, modest gym bottoms, and running shoes with tall, thick, used atheletic socks.
I was a sight that made eyes sore.
My friend told me the sweater was a bit much. “It goes better with denim,” I replied.
We found a lady’s t-shirt (white) in the sample clothing I’d collected for our Logo Apparel Program and I hid in a cubicle to change (I couldn’t face going past the time clock to the bathroom).
Right as I was sitting down to my reclusive day in my cubicle, someone called for me to “Come on!” and I discovered that I only had one appointment today and that appointment was a dress rehearsal for next week’s skit.
So there I was, in my gym clothes, on stage with the EVP of Human Resources, the EVP of Sales Operations, and a dozen other employees, bathed in bright lights.
Which accented the black bra I’d chosen to wear this morning.
I am now at the end of my day, and after several comments about the tag sticking out of my shirt and the soy sauce I spilled down the front over lunch, I’m ready to go home. Where I will put on my pants and be happy.
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