Today was my first day at my new job. It’s sort of a misnomer to call it my “new job,” since I’ve been consulting for this company for the past two years. Perhaps that’s why my nervousness wasn’t centered around if I would like the work, or if I could live up to expectations, or if I’d get along with my co-workers. No, instead, all weekend long I obsessed about my first day outfit.
I wanted to really ‘dress to impress’ on my first day. Soon I’ll go back to my normal casual slob chic, but on the first day, I wanted people to think, “By virtue of her wardrobe, Meredith is a professional to be taken seriously!”
Mr. P thought that dressing up on my first day would only emphasize my subsequent nonchalance, although I reminded him that I employed a similar bait-and-switch technique in the beginning stages of our relationship. I’d spend an hour grooming and dressing in preparation for our every encounter. As he became more attached to me, I gradually grew more casual to the point where “doing my hair” involves a big ole’ hair clip and “make-up” is a coat of lip balm.
And now, when I do dress up, Mr. P is witness to this ugly backstory involving myriad outfit changes, mirror obsessing, and “Does this dress go with these shoes?” I modeled 5 outfits, and he dismissed one outfit as too fancy, another as too summery, another as too sexy, another as too scary, and another as looking like something his grandmother would wear. “You mean she would have worn it when she was my age, or when she was 90?” I asked. “Because, you know, it makes a difference.”
I ended up wearing the dress that Grandma P would have worn when she was 60, because I believe Mr. P mistakes “retro” for “antiquated,” and also because it’s a lightweight dress that I want to squeeze one more wearing out of before the cold weather comes in earnest.
Of course, I wound up being overdressed, and none of my new co-workers could have cared less what clothes I wore… although, at a meeting, one middle-aged woman seemed impressed that I wore a watch, because she said that only old people wear watches. “Young people use cell phones to know the time,” she said.
“Well, my watch is much nicer than my cell phone,” I said, and everyone laughed. Who needs nice clothes to dazzle people when you’ve got unwitting wit, after all?
