Today I was faced with a detrimental project problem at work. I looked down the length the conference table and announced, â€œMake it work!â€ Because there is really no situation that cannot benefit from the sage advice of fashion guru Tim Gunn.
I was met with a silent host of blank stares. I realized I was surrounded by computer engineers. This was quite clearly my most impressive Know Your Audience fail yet.
If youâ€™d have told me 10 years ago that I would one day be experimenting with colors of makeup that complemented a wardrobe of pencil skirts for everyday business dress everyday, and that Iâ€™d stockpile a rainbow selection of stilettos to finish the look, Iâ€™d have told you to share what you were smoking.
And yet here we are. The tomboy in me has been threatened with hospital gowns, sweated out of decade-old t-shirts, spit up on and ultimately experienced the fantabulous skincare benefits of a baby food facial.
But hereâ€™s the secret to my sophisticated put together look. Itâ€™s all about Occam’s Razor â€“ the simplest solution is usually the answer. And that answer has no delusions of Supermom grandeur. (We canâ€™t all be you, Marrisa Mayer â€“ we all know my Yahoo maternity plan wasnâ€™t remotely as planned or organized.)
On school day mornings I take a few selfish moments and actually pay attention to what Iâ€™m doing. (Usually determined by asking myself what would be completely inappropriate for an afternoon of mudpies and slimy creepy-crawlies, but apparently totally ok to have spilled down my front during a mid-day coffee break.)
Barring an additional hit of the snooze button, hitting the office is a prime opportunity to dress like a grownup. (I know, stop laughing. Itâ€™s all part of my clever disguise of being an adult and put together.)
The following conversation actually happened:
Colleague: Did you do something to your hair?
Me: It’s down today.
Colleague: It looks different.
Me: It’s usually up.
Colleague: Because it’s likeâ€¦long now.
Me: Thatâ€™s because it’s down.
Later that day:
Colleague: Iâ€™ve been meaning to ask you, why does the Snow White on your laptop have glasses?
(Thatâ€™s right folks, even my Macbook Air is stylinâ€™.)
I stared back at him through my big red-rimmed glasses.
Me: Occam, man. Occam.
This afternoon I was wrangling cranky muppets from the preschool playground. I confiscated a broom. (I know â€“ all those toys and learning tools, and itâ€™s the household apparatus to sweep up crushed Cheerios that becomes the object of obsession.)
Search melted. Wriggling, writhing and hysterical, he passionately expressed his emotions â€“ biting and tearing buttons from my blouse.
Yeahâ€¦thatâ€™s not how this fantasy ever went in my head. I didnâ€™t look a thing like I thought I did at the start of the day. But I like to think I made it work.
Life. Make it work!