Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Dress Up

Every morning I put on my fancy work clothes and I do my hair like the grown ups do and I grin and bear wearing heels everyday, and I wear collared shirts and jewelry and I walk around on my lunch hour and I wear dangly earrings, and it all feels like I'm a little girl playing dress up. I feel like I'm wearing an orange jump suit and everyone is staring at me wondering who I am and what I am doing here. I feel like an impostor in this business world, and this nine to five thingy. It's as though I am making the phone calls to clients and sending out letters on fancy paper to imaginary people who don't really exist. It feels like a concoction of actuality and as though the life I am living is just a dream world and I'm not ready to be here or old enough to be here, and I'm already tired of being here and I don't know how I am supposed to last another 50 years doing this shit.

Every day, I wake up and think "I wonder what would happen if I just didn't go in to work today." and I contemplate where I could move to and how I could escape this pretend thing I have. My eyes water from staring at the computer screen, my wrists hurt from typing too much, my brain shuts down at three for various reasons, and I wonder how long this is going to last me. And when in the world is someone going to call me out on this whole ordeal? I know everyone thinks it. As they drive by me at noon in their cars they've got to be wondering what I am doing here. How I am surviving. Who I am.

I look at other girls my age and I laugh at them. Their clothes are from Target and Cheap Mall stores. Their pants aren't tailored and they don't have three pleats in the front. I know they wear their heels to the bars on Friday, and their skirts are borrowed from their mothers closets (as mine are). It's hysterical really. How this whole grown up thing happened.

I mean, it started out in elementary school, you're taken from your parents and thrown into a land of learning, and recess. You do what you do and you're little. Then there's that whole awkward three years of middle school where who knows what the fuck you are. Then high school where you're given some more responsibility, less parent awareness of where you are every minute of the day, and you can do stuff like drive and stay out late and what not. Then there's college where you are totally free to go ape-shit and do whatever you feel like whenever you feel like. Class today? Nah. Eat crappy food at 4 in the morning because your piss drunk and have nothing better to do, sure, why not? It's a matter of living in the moment, deciding what sounds good then for you and for no one else. You just do what you can do to pass your classes, and suck up every other free ounce of time to laugh, live, and make serious life altering mistakes that you'll regret for years to come. And by the time you realize you've nearly screwed yourself, you're outta college and you're wearing skirts and heels and dress pants and you're wondering how the hell is happened and what you are supposed to do. You have money, but no time or freedom to spend it, so you're careless and you overdraft on numerous occasions. You think it's weird that your friends parents now talk to you about work and "the man" and other boring shit you never cared to hear about before but now you somewhat understand so you continue the conversation rather than try to divert like you may have in the past. And you do stuff like write reports, and send memos, and have a book of stamps. And it's all supposed to make sense somehow.

Like who put these dress shoes on me and told me I could have a job? Were they crazy. I have no idea what I am doing. All i want is nap time, snack time, and play time. The rest to me sees irrelevant and trivial, yet, I have no choice but to spent 1/3 of my day working, and wearing clothes I hate, and talking to people in a "professional tone" like I really know what I am doing.

And the worst part of it all, is that now I am getting wedding invitations. So now, I have to wear the same boring dressy shit that I wear to work to my friends wedding and drink wine and have intellectual conversations with people. I liked it much better when I could hide out in the limo and play Nintendo and only come out for cheese and crackers and a noogie from my cousin, and then disappear for the rest of the afternoon down in the creek totally ruining my dress and getting yelled at by my mother for it later, but laughing so hard at the fact that it's only ruined because I tripped while trying to push my best friend in the water.

On that note, I'm going to crawl under my desk, grab a cup of milk, and take a nap in the hopes that nobody notices that I'm really just an impostor, in my mom's clothes, trying not to pretend like I wish I was a little girl again.

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