mrs-roboto's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I Can Get With The Black and White Stripes and Ankle Cuffs But I Look Like Hell in Camouflage I frequently visit with our postal carrier. She's a short woman with dark hair and a deep voice. We've seen each other almost everyday for over a year and not once in all that time have I seen her wear anything but postal shorts. Now Seattle, while not the bitter Northeast or Midwest, is by no means toasty in February (although my father-in-law in Boston balked when I said I was cold because it dipped down to 40 degrees) yet my mail lady seems unbothered by this fact. She never wears slacks. Recently, I started to take note of the various postal workers about town. Almost all of them wear shorts. One lady wears the postal skirt which would probably be my choice as well should I ever need to sport the polyester grays and blues of the US Postal Service. I can understand the general avoidance of postal pants. They're especially unflattering to women with hips. On top of that, there's just something so oppressive about the uniform pants. There is a certain freedom to the postal shorts. They're more modern and they seem to say "power to the people," don't you think? Maybe, I'm just drawing from my own relationship with uniforms. I have been forced into a uniform for the better part of my life. Twelve years in Catholic school meant kilts and vests all around. Have you ever worn a skirt in 10 degree temperatures? It sucks. My high school did not offer a pants alternative but I'm sure if they did it would have been 100% synthetic fibers with an elastic waistband. Would I have worn these slacks? Not bloody likely at that point in my life. I was far too vain. I did your typical Catholic school girl routine, hiked the skirt to my crotch and unbuttoned my blouse to reveal excessive cleavage, and then I "accessorized." Accessorizing was the only thing which provided you with any bit of originality. Many girls at that time wore multiple pairs of scrunchy socks or covered their vests in New Kids on the Block buttons but that was not my scene. A particularly gross trend that took place within the halls of Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt was the usage of Gummy Bears as personal decoration. This involved licking the flat side of the candy and then sticking it to your lapel. Yeah, gross. Me, I choose to wear tights, oxblood Doc Martins, and to dye my hair odd shades of red and black. I took Mr. T's cue for jewelry wearing, only I had a passion for silver. I'd wear as many as six necklaces, eight cheap silver and semiprecious stone rings, dangling earrings and multiple clanging bracelets. The overall look was, well, noisy in every way You could hear my jewelry chiming from way down the hall and see the clashing colors of my hair and shoes from miles away. I was loud. As an adult, I had a job or two which required me to wear a uniform. When I worked at a movie theater I was forced to wear a visor, black pleated pants, a white button up shirt and a bow tie. On day two I lost the visor, by the second week I "accidentally" dropped the bow tie into a vat of butter, and at a month I switched over to wearing black jeans. When working on the cruise ship, we had two separate attires, one for daytime and one for evening. Daytime attire consisted of pleated, navy dockers and a white polo with the cruise company logo. Hair was to be neatly tied back, body jewelry was strictly forbidden, and tattoos could not be visible. I immediately sought out pleatless, Dickie pants which sat neatly on my hips, rolled at the ankle to reveal one of my tattoos and a big studded black belt to hold them up. I wore my hair long and down and never tucked in my shirt. I had a tongue ring which I refused to take out despite repeated warnings. We're at sea for chissakes, what are you going to do??!! Throw me overboard for not following policy? Evening attire consisted of black pants, a white button up, and the tie of your choice. Now, I am a woman and I have to deal with a lot of crappy things (take PMS for instance). The one benefit given to me as a result of my sex, not being forced to wear a cloth noose around my neck, is about to be taken from me and so I freaked out. I organized the female staff to rebel against this oppressive practice by distributing pretty satin scarfs, a much more feminine and colorful option, to each woman on board and collecting all the ties for a burial at seas. The loosely tied scarves were a big hit and I got my way. Yay me! My job now is a business casual atmosphere (except on Mondays and Fridays when the Big Boss is out and anything goes). The vagueness of the term "business casual" is liberating. Sometimes I wear a funky vintage dress with knee high red boots, and sometimes a simple black skirt, V-neck sweater combination with my Mary Janes. I wear as little or as much jewelry as I please. Most days I feel pretty okay about my ensemble but there are times when I'm staring into my closet, and it 6:30 AM, and I'm feeling bloated, and wondering what I should put on that I think to myself "gosh, if we only had a uniform my life would be so much easier." I'm taking a long weekend and heading off to a cabin in the San Juans with my dearest and our friends Judy and Jiri (and of course the dogs). I know that Valentines Day is a Hallmark holiday and I feel guilty for even planning a getaway at such a time but I swear I need a break. I've been going at full tilt for the last couple of weeks and I have earned the right to sit by a fire and drink red wine. So what if I ordered chocolate covered strawberries from the Belgium specialty shop? It's doesn't mean I buy into the dorkiness of February 14th. I'm just celebrating Presidents Day, okay?
10:01 a.m. - 2003-02-12 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
