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So I am an idiot.
People like me should be able to afford to pay someone to lay out clothes for them. Why? Because people like me, when overly exhausted, just don’t give a f**k until they realize, upon walking into work, what they’ve done.
Did I notice what I was wearing this morning? Nope.
Did I notice it or give it a second thought on the three-hour-long drive home today? Of course not?
I noticed it when talking to one of my impeccably dressed bosses.
Let us go inside the mind of a one… me. (Sorry, Greg Jennings.) If you are aspiring to be like me in any way (Blessings upon you. You’ll need them.), this is how you must go about getting your ass clothed in the morning after a night of zero sleep because your husband apparently thinks it’s the optimum sleeping position for him if he planks. On top of you. (Note: the planking husband bit is essential to the state of delirium and confusion that results from being slept upon and thereby not sleeping. Did I mention he’s like a f**king space heater?)
1. Get in shower.
2. Wonder why your contacts are beading water and then realize that you are still wearing your glasses like the wunderkind you are. (Note: Wunderkind is my new favorite non-English word. Eschew is my new favorite English word. Just keeping you abreast of all the deets of my life.)
3. Forget whether or not you shampooed your hair. Shampoo.
4. Remember that you did already shampoo your hair because you did it while singing “Someone Like You” by Adele because sometimes you just like to cry a little in the shower for no reason at all other than the fact that you have ovaries and sometimes those little f**kers make you sad. That, and that song makes you cry when you’re naked. Because you have a heart and tear ducts.
5. Realize that curly hair, when shampooed twice, gets dry. This means it will be frizzy. FABULOUS.
6. Convince yourself that a headband solves all hair problems. (It doesn’t.) And that your hair will flatten out by the time you get to work. (It won’t.)
7. Pull a pair of pants out of the laundry basket. In the dim lighting, they will look black. (They are, in fact, a bright grape color.)
8. Grab a top from the clean clothes basket. It is black and white striped. (At least you got that one right, eh kiddo?)
9. Grab a cardigan from the same basket. It’s a pink color, you think. Perfect. Black and white and pink will go great together. (Only it’s not pink. It’s more of a neon/purple color. And those pants ain’t black, remember?)
10. Slip into your Dansko clogs because they are the only shoes that don’t make you cry when you walk. Be proud of yourself for putting on your black Danskos with your black pants. (But guess what, kids. They’re not your black Danskos. They’re those leopard print patent ones that you got as a gift and only wear gardening or to pick up the dog shit from the front yard.)
Ladies and gentleman, today, I realized only as I stood before my boss, who happened to be wearing an Armani suit and handmade shoes, just how I looked. (Let’s review. Purple pants. Black and white top. Neon purple cardigan. Leopard print shoes. HEADBAND. Mondo frizz. Winning.)
I look like a really, really, ridiculously frumpy pimp.
(I assume there are Lady-Pimps. And I assume they can be frumpy. Can you prove me wrong? I never said it would be a high class brothel, now did I? No. Women like that probably run an organization where after you’ve been “serviced,” for an extra $5, you get help studying for your GED or editing your resume or are taught to knit because it helps coordination. I can only assume.)
(Note: I do not aspire to pimphood in any capacity. Nor do I aspire to do anything involving the sex trade, unless it is to write blog posts about how I, like Liz Lemon would charge "$5,000 for cuddling, a million dollars for kissing. End of list." Just wanted to clear that up before y'all hit the comment section.)
Or maybe I look like one of The Raisins. I don't know. I don't think that makes it any better.
What could have possibly made that moment more embarrassing?
Impeccably Dressed Boss: You look…. nice, Kate.
Mother Trucker. (Only I didn't think "truck.")
This is why Carter and I are either:
a) Getting twin beds so I can sleep
b) Throwing out all of my clothes that aren’t black so that this can never happen again.
c) Training Lola to pick out my clothes in the morning. I know she’s color blind, but could she possibly do worse than I did? Doubtful.
Here’s hoping that the rest of the week is more…. shall we say….. coordinated.