Nelson goes to work NAKED

Okay, okay, I didn't go to work naked.  BUT DON'T YOU MESS WITH ME RIGHT NOW because after the events of the past hour, I'm THIS close to showing up to the doors of Podiatry tomorrow morning showing off the new spring fashion: a fleshy, slightly sunburned, yet-to-shed-the-winter-padding ensemble otherwise known as my uncovered, hang-out-with-your-wang-out, jam-out-with-your-clam out birthday suit to end all birthday suits.

So what kind of events would create in a person the desire to bare their bits to the world?  Trying to decide what to wear to work tomorrow morning, of course.  Man, I'm really starting to smash myself for accepting this job.  I'm not Nelson!  I don't look cute all the time, half the time, or even a quarter of the time! 

My preferred winter outfit: polar bear sleep pants that I pilfer from the man who lives with me, knee-high socks of any print, design, or material (though I usually end up wearing one fuzzy pink one and one striped hot green and blue...it's too hard to keep up with both of them), and any number of thick things swaddling me up top...again probably stolen from that man.

My preferred summer attire: as little as possible, but consisting mainly of thin, solid colored t-shirts and nylon shorts. But if I feel it's socially acceptable to eliminate either of those at any given time, you bettah' believe I take advantage.

I've exhausted all of my Podiatry-like outfits for the past several shifts I've worked, and I find myself back at square BORING.  So I pooled my meager resources this evening and did a massive try on of all the things I own in an attempt to find something edgy or cute or interesting so that I can not feel like a Podiatry outcast tomorrow.  Outfits that came out of this great attempt:

1. What I thought was going to be an awesome high-waisted skirt + tucked in shirt combo had me looking like I was wearing bags upon bags of fabric. I sought the opinion of the man-in-the-house, and he beheld me with head tilted to one side and a kind of confused, brow-furrowed facial expression going on. "You don't like it?" was my immediate response to this bewildered contemplation. "Well, I'm just not used to you...in that kind of thing."  I think I heard him describe it as "vaguely 50's-ish" as I traipsed back to my closet, and I have no idea what he meant by that.

2. Some dark (way-too-tight at this point) kinda dingy grey skinny-cut pants and a sleeveless blouse that looks like it was ripped off of the wall of the diner from Saved-By-The-Bell: random streaks of 90s colors: hot pinks, dark greens, and brown.  Yeah, I don't know why I ever bought that or why I thought it would work for a Podiatry outfit as I looked like a punk teenager roaming the streets of Munich at night.

3. Some Gap "trousers" and some ole shirt.  Gap trousers are perhaps my favorite for "dressy" occasions (an insight into my fashion sense, no doubt).  But I couldn't imagine myself wearing them in Podiatry.  Next to my co-workers, I feel I'd look like their mothers.  Or worse, their 2nd grade teachers.    

All this I was doing, by the way, while man was cooking up a storm and blasting crazy avant-garde jazz.  This means that it was SWELTERING in our home and contributed to extreme feelings of hotflash as I hurried from closet to mirror putting on and taking things off.  Let us not forget that I was all the while being assaulted in the ears by frenzied honking. 

Sitting on the porch in the cool of the night and processing the event helps me reevaluate my previous desire to take it all off for my morning shift.  I'll probably just do the logical thing and recycle an outfit that I've already worn.  I have nothing to be ashamed of by wearing a shirt to work twice.  Just because it appears to me that my coworkers are constantly showing off new runway-caliber duds every time they step through the theft-detecting scanner and enter Podiatry's walls doesn't mean I am required to do the same.  I was hired to do a job, and do it I will.  Fully clothed, if I must.