I hate dressing up. I like looking nice, but I don't have the patience to spend any real time getting dressed and I paid for it this morning when I got to work and realized, by looking at my reflection in our building's glass doors, that somehow the bottom layer of my summer dress got about six inches longer than the top layer. It must have happened before I left home somehow but I didn't spend a lot of time in front of the mirror this morning.
Regardless of how and when, a black cheap material was drifting unevenly at the bottom of my fun polka dotted black dress, making me look really stupid. My first impulse was to turn around and drive the 45 min. back home to change. But I made myself dash for the bathroom where I tried to rationalize my unique outfit. That didn't work. Scissors, I thought. They are on my desk. I snuck out of the bathroom and tried to reach my desk through the back door, but it was still locked. I gracefully walked through the front part of the office, and in front of my editors' and co-workers' desks, thankful that only three of them were in the office and their eyes were on their computers.
Too composed, I set my bag down, grabbed my red and silver scissors and walked out of the editorial department back into the bathroom. I should have explained to the co-worker in the bathroom who saw me carry in the scissors. She said, “Good morning?” like she wanted to make sure I was okay. I didn't though. Before she could look my outfit over, I smiled at her, said that I was glad it was Tuesday and got myself and the scissors behind stall doors. Blocks of the unwanted material came off and went into the bathroom trash with the scissors.
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1 comment:
Layla, even if you had explained she probably still would have been worried. Kind of like when you would just get frustrated with your hair in school and grab the paper scissors from the desk and go at it. And we would be watching in shock as you chopped it off. ;-)
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