Now that my kids are soon to be vacating the house on a semi permanent basis I need to fill a void that has been lying dormant for years. Something that I have been aVOIDing to do based on my life as a wife, mother, dog walker, housekeeper, nurse, chief cook and bottle washer, chauffeur, laundress, accountant, gardener, psychiatrist, travel agent, consultant, sports authority, and sibling rivalry referee………
I am ready to Tap-out now and try my attempt at re-entering the workforce. It has been years since I’ve held full time work and I am not afraid to go out into this world and show them exactly what I’ve got:
I’ve got a wardrobe from the 1990’s.
I’ve got the ability to apply my half -used free samples of Lancome products that I acquired over the years during a Macy*s back to school sale. Yes, I got a little side tracked at the Mall while hunting for back-packs and lunch boxes.
In fact, I’ve got pulled aside by many mall make up artist’s who try to perform their magic on me. I can’t imagine why they keep picking me out of the crowd of soccer moms. I arrive dressed in appropriate attire when the doors open in the morning. I see nothing wrong with waking up and sliding down my fire pole to slip into my uniform sweats that have been standing at attention all night, accompanied by dirty Vans and a Hoodie. I carry an odiferous aroma about my being ranging between Downey fabric softener and last night’s Pizza.
I’ve got my hair in an erect ponytail and I shield my puffy bags with over sized Raybans. I can’t imagine why the make-up crews single me out……..
I’ve got the ability to clean up while driving and apply make-up at stop intervals. The drivers behind me hate it though, they keep honking at me just because I’m waiting for the Stop sign to turn green. I thought it would buy me more time with the Mascara…. I find it takes two applications now. One; to find the lashes, and two; to glue together the few that I have left…..forming a uni-lash.
The downfall about putting make-up on in a car are the bumps in the roads. They are always working on our streets and neglecting to refill the potholes, so when I finally reach my final destination ( usually the school drop off line) and park my car and get out, I notice people staring and kids pointing in my direction.
After transmitting my morning without coffee sneer to ward off evil onlookers, I take a quick pause into the ladies room to wash the morning gas of my hands from filling the empty tank left by my husband. I looked up at the mirror as I rinsed the suds off my paws and saw what the villagers were scoffing at: My freshly applied make-up face resembled a combination of Picaso’s Weeping Woman and Baby Jane Hudson’s as she delivered a Parakeet to her sister…….
I’ve got a pair of pumps that my feet haven’t felt in ages. One cannot describe the agonizing pinch of the toes that have been granted freedom in flip flops with arches that collapsed from the great depression of Ked’s insoles. I took the time one late afternoon to strap on some heels and practice walking in them around the house with no one around to witness the teetering and the giant fight against balance, except Charly-dog, who steered clear of my runway in fear of a crash landing.
I spent the better half of the day shuffling about in my designer heels that peeped out from my Yoga pants. I practiced my walk until I felt I had it down to a science and stopped echoing a staggering drunk on some forgotten street. I felt confident and assured that I had tackled the High Heel dilemma and ventured to take my stiletto’s to another dimension: The Stair case.
Climbing up the steps was met with ease….. it was the descent that had me clinging to the banister like Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard, avoiding a result mimicking Scarlett O’Hara’s demise after her lunge toward a drunken Butler…….
I’ve got a resume. Somewhere. It hasn’t been updated since the Clinton administration. Just a minor
I’ve got credentials. I’m accredited with incredibility. References available upon request. Go ahead…..request. Request until the cows come home. Habeas corpus; I can produce the body……..it’s just a little rusty and needs a make over….which the Lancome staff has a signed commitment to uphold……
If you don’t like my credibility try my crudites. They are incredible, and edible, but not available upon request.
I’ve got the corporate beige panty hose that are tied up in knots from the last load in the wash cycle.
I’ve got a brief case from 1987 that needs airing.
I’ve got a boat load of humor stuck in me that is trying to float to the surface………………..
spread the humor.