I don’t know about you, but when people tell me that I look good, I get cocky.
Then I walk through a paint pan, or drip oil on my silk shirt, or break a heel off my shoe.
So it went the first day of working at my new school this year.
When I walked into the kitchen that morning, Dimples gave me a thumbs up, and the Cap’n told me I looked “hot”. I felt great for about 5 seconds, then realized that they had both just sealed the coffin shut on my first day. I have never once escaped the Compliment Curse, and I knew this day would be no different. The more I needed to look “hot”, the less “hot” I was going to be…
I brought Dimples to school, and we parted in the hallway. She is a morning patrol this year and I, well, I had to do something to look official on my first day.
I wandered around greeting parents and helping people find classrooms, then meandered back to my classroom to start work. As a GT teacher, I don’t have any students the first couple of days. But, I have plenty of work.
After a couple of hours of going cross-eyed with paperwork and basking in my “hotness”, I decided I deserved a break. I walked to the main building, which, as we established in my last post, is the exact distance from my portable as Mars is from Texas. Yes, Mars the planet.
In the Teacher’s Lounge, I passed a mirror. And that’s when I saw it.
The entire raggedy hem of my skirt was hanging down in the rear. Not attractive. Not professional. And definitely not hot.
My first thought was, “Wow, I wish I had a sewing kit here at school.” Dumb.
A. I don’t know how to sew. 2. Where exactly did I think I was going to take off my skirt so I could sew it back together? I certainly couldn’t do it in my classroom, and people were bound to get suspicious if I barricaded the bathroom door for an hour. And their suspicions would probably be worse than my actual predicament. AND, being able to sew doesn’t become any easier when you are in a bathroom closet sitting on a toilet.
So, I backed my way all the way back to my portable, and emptied the drawers of my desk, praying that Neumo, our classroom pet cockroach, would not leap into my face to make my day truly complete.
The tape drawer showed the most promise. I had lime green duct tape I had borrowed from Dimples for some classroom decorating. I imagined myself on Project Runway modeling my new lime green raincoat skirt with masking tape pockets. Definitely hot. Too bad I didn’t have the roll of leopard tape, too…
But, then I noticed my “mavelus tape“, and decided to give that a try instead. I taped my hem, and then strategically placed a bunch of not-so-straight-because-I-use-them-on-my-bulletin-board-pins throughout the entire skirt. As you can imagine, this took quite a bit of finesse considering I was still wearing the skirt.
And I was in a bit of pain any time I sat down.
But that’s nothing new.
I spent the next 4 hours as a voodoo doll, wincing every time I pierced my own skin, and composing a lecture to Cap’n Firepants about how he should never, ever, under no uncertain terms call me “hot” again.
My temporary “fix” made it through the rest of the day with some minor adjustments to my walking stride that I’m certain did not make me look awkward at all.
MacGyver would be proud. Heidi Klum? Not so much.