I just returned from my Harvard trip, and realized I forgot to post this before I left…
I just bought two pairs of shoes that I didn’t really want. I am very depressed.
I am going to Harvard next week, and I keep getting e-mails about the dress code. Because we will be walking to most places on cobblestone streets, we are being told that “flats are great.” We are also being told to dress professionally. And there is my conundrum. Because the only women who wear flats and are professionals are nuns, in my opinion.
The only “flats” I like are flip-flops. According to many bosses I have worked for, flip-flops do not fall into the “professional” category.
Flats with closed toes make me look short. None of the e-mails forbade me to look short. But I still don’t want to look short. Because that makes me feel squat. And squat = fat.
I decided that I might be able to compromise by wearing wedges, which are flat on the bottom, but would not make my foot flat, and my legs short, and my stomach fat.
I was thinking about this very issue the other night when the Cap’n and I went out on a date. A woman passed by who was wearing the perfect combination of professionally flat shoes that I had pictured in my brain. They were black, peep-toe wedges with a bit of leopard print near the toes.
“She is wearing MY shoes,” I hissed to Cap’n Firepants.
Cap’n Firepants was not looking at her shoes. She was a very attractive woman, who was very tall, and had many other attractive attributes besides her perfect flats.
I considered asking the woman where she had bought her shoes. And if she had bought her other attractive attributes as well. But I had not had a glass of wine yet, so I was not feeling very assertive. After two glasses of wine, my self-confidence returned in such full force that I fully believed that I did not need those stupid shoes anyway because I am so wonderful that I can wear any pair of shoes – even the ones with the separate toes – and I will look professional and unsquat – and even, to some, attractive.
After I slept off my two glasses of wine, and awoke my normal, pusillanimous self, I panicked. With one day left until my trip, I made a last-ditch effort to find some appropriate footwear by visiting two mega shoe stores in my neighborhood. At each one, I broke my Cardinal Rule of Shoe Shopping (to spend money only on Shoes That Make Me Look Awesome), and bought a Pair That Makes Me Look Like A Woman Who Wears Pantsuits.
Even as I write this post, I am glaring at the shoe boxes holding my Sensible Shoes. My eyes wander and light on a bin in the corner of the room. A bin of duct tape. The leopard print roll is right on top.
Maybe I can salvage these shoes after all…
“His name is MacGyver. He can fix anything. He could fix a computer with a hairpin and a piece of duct tape.”
Dimples and Cap’n Firepants have been bonding lately over MacGyver. I tried to watch it with them, but ended up laughing so hard at the critical moments that they kicked me out.
It could be that the background music is ridiculously corny. Or, it could be that I can’t get Saturday Night Live’s MacGyver spoofs (MacGruber) out of my head. Or, it could be that I just don’t like to take things very seriously.
I’ve been trying to figure out why Dimples has a sudden affinity for this television show from the 80’s – other than the fact that her dad likes it, too. (Notice that I don’t question why her dad finds the show so fascinating; he’s a bit of a MacGyver, himself.)
When I looked up quotes from the show, I found a possible connection. Pretty much one out of three quotes from the guy is about duct tape.
“If I had some duct tape, I could fix that.”
Dimples loves duct tape. In case you haven’t had a chance to peruse the duct tape aisle of your local Target store lately, it has changed dramatically since the days of the silver colored hardware accessory. It comes in a multitude of colors, including pink with white polka dots, blue plaid, leopard print, and neon colored peace signs. Duct tape has branched out.
Why, you may ask yourself, would anyone want duct tape with neon colored peace signs?
Apparently, like MacGyver, the world has realized that duct tape has many uses. And one of them is for crafts.
Oh yes, you would be amazed at the gifts one can make from duct tape, including: bags, pens, bows, flowers, and wallets. Google it and you will find people who have made prom dresses and wedding dresses out of the stuff.
Dimples, our little 8-year old entrepeneur, has made a tiny side business out of making duct tape bags, such as this Halloween Trick or Treat bag:
We have a huge bin of duct tape in various patterns to fit any occasion. Except fixing things. I don’t think Cap’n Firepants really wants to use Hello Kitty duct tape to fix his lawn mower or the vacuum cleaner hose.
So, now I’m picturing MacGyver in another one of his hairy situations, saying, “If only I had a roll of duct tape.” His current babe of the moment whips a roll of zebra striped tape out of her bra, and hands it to him. He gratefully accepts it, turns away from the camera, and, in a matter of seconds, turns back around with this:
“For the past seven years I have done nothing but travel around the world getting shot up, locked up, blown up… and all I have to show for it are a couple of empty rolls of duct tape.”
That’s what I want on my tombstone.
I forgot to wear my bra.
Periodically, as I attempt different fashion combinations inside my closet early in the morning, I throw things on without the bra b/c the final topper will determine the foundation, as most women know.
Every once in awhile, I am so flustered and running late, that I head out for the day without that somewhat necessary piece of equipment. I say “somewhat” because, unfortunately, some might look at that general area of my body and wonder why I even bother. However, in certain outfits, and in certain types of weather (such as really cold), trust me, it’s necessary.
The necessity can be compounded by the fact that I am a teacher, and spending an entire day in the classroom with certain pieces of clothing missing is generally frowned upon by anyone other than teenage boys. I don’t teach teenage boys.
I keep a sweater at school for just such emergencies. People tend to question you, however, when it is 107 outside, and you are wearing a sweater in a school whose antiquated air conditioning system can’t even come close to keeping up. “I’m cold, ” does not seem to be a satisfactory answer when your co-workers are fanning themselves with everything from clipboards to old book covers.
Now, if you happen to be one of said co-workers reading this post, let me assure you that I often am cold. I don’t really forget to don my bra that many days per year.
As you may have learned from my other posts, however, I have a tendency toward forgetfulness, which I blame on terrorists or the internet, and which sometimes manifests itself in my periodically incomplete or mismatched wardrobe.
So, I was sitting yesterday at my daughter’s synchronized swimming practice, when the horrible thought sent a chill down my spine. I forgot to put on a bra. That’s why that New Parent at the other end of the table eyed me so strangely!
I waited until I could surreptitiously and nonchalantly walk to the bathroom to try to create some sort of makeshift MacGyver bra. When I closed the door and lifted up my shirt, however, lo and behold, I discovered I actually had remembered after all.
Of course, after the relief wore off, I had to deal with the discomfort of two more tantalizing questions – how could I not know I was wearing a bra? And what else could have made New Parent look at me as though I had walked into the room with toilet paper hanging from the back of my shorts?
Oh, wait a second…