Today I was faced with a detrimental project problem at work. I looked down the length the conference table and announced, “Make it work!” 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 you’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 I’d stockpile a rainbow selection of stilettos to finish the look, I’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 here’s the secret to my sophisticated put together look. It’s all about Occam’s Razor – the simplest solution is usually the answer. And that answer has no delusions of Supermom grandeur. (We can’t all be you, Marrisa Mayer – we all know my Yahoo maternity plan wasn’t remotely as planned or organized.)
On school day mornings I take a few selfish moments and actually pay attention to what I’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. It’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 like…long now.
Me: That’s because it’s down.
Later that day:
Colleague: I’ve been meaning to ask you, why does the Snow White on your laptop have glasses?
(That’s right folks, even my Macbook Air is stylin’.)
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 – all those toys and learning tools, and it’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 – biting and tearing buttons from my blouse.
Yeah…that’s not how this fantasy ever went in my head. I didn’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!
This is hysterical, Tricia! I totally relate!