Fellow columnist Kevin Wychopen and I
have been swapping stories about our daughters for years, as we both are
supremely invested in their well being and journeys in life. This is why I had
to share with you a blog post from my oldest daughter living in Washington DC
and working as an Endocrine unit Nurse in downtown DC. This is a girl that can
shoot a hole in a quarter with a 22 pistol, rides an ATV at the ranch like a
madman, and yet is very feminine and sweet. She has a great writing style,
geared more for blog posts, but definitely well written. She reads my columns
and accuses me of being a comma-holic. I, may, be, but, so, what… anyway – for
a much better read here is my daughter Randi.
The Beginning of my demise.
I'm not afraid of much in this life, but I do have one fear in particular, one
that I consider to be valid and rational, and one that I fear is coming true. I
fear losing touch with fashion. Not high fashion, and not that I'm very
fashionable to begin with, but fashion like the 30-40 year old women on
"What Not To Wear" who haven't shopped in a decade and are so
completely clueless about clothes that they literally don't know how to dress
themselves outside of their scrubs. It's the commonality between them all, the
baseline, and I fear the catalyst to cluelessness.
When I started nursing school and was told to buy white scrub tops, white scrub bottoms and white nursing shoes, I knew I was in for it. At that point I knew it was all ugly. The tops were so loose, the pants were weird and the shoes were possibly the most hideous rubber clog looking, Mickey Mouse bubble shoes I had ever seen. Follow me back with the Ghost of Christmas Past and watch in horror at my pained expression paying money in exchange for them. Watch my face as I hand over the credit card and you'll see flashes of pain, disgust, embarrassment and dread. Watch me as I put them on at home and kept pulling the back of the top so it would be tighter and show any hint of a waistline. Watch me as I stepped out of my car, one oversized cloggy white nursing shoe after the other, and went to my first day of school in scrubs.
Fast forward to present day. I have been working as a real live nurse for 6 months! I'm pretty proud of myself, all this fruition of dreams business - and the paychecks! It's divine. Plus I get to wear blue scrubs- no more white! And scrubs are so comfy, so loose! And my shoes are so spongy, it's like walking on the moon. This is where you should gasp! and notice the change. It's already happening. I'm becoming the women who alternate between scrubs for work, sweats at home with nothing in between but an old dress for church and some terrible kitten heels. (Disclaimer, I do not yet own kitten heels because I hate them. But I used to hate spongy, cloggy nursing shoes. The decline is so rapid! It's terrifying.)
For example, yesterday I woke up at 2:30 in the afternoon from working night shift, put on sweats and a robe, and never changed out of them. What's worse, I didn't even notice I wasn't dressed until after dinner, which means I ate Sunday dinner with my husband in sweats and a robe. Unacceptable.
Example 2: I worked on Christmas. Our uniform is blue scrubs top to bottom, every day, always. To show some festive something-anything- I wore Christmas tree earrings. This is true. I argued back and forth about it in my head, knowing I was standing at the edge of a very steep cliff and putting that tree in my ear was the same as taking one small step toward fashion demise that would send me plummeting face first into the canyon of lame, fashion less girl no one wants to be seen with, and I did it anyway. I wore them even though I knew they were dorky which is a terrible thing to do. I argued with myself, "But I am spending Christmas in the hospital. I need something to cheer me up and keep me happy for the patients who are spending Christmas there too*." Is not the unwritten rule of fashion to not wear things are that dorky, ugly or make you look fat? Ignore these and there are no rules at all and all of a sudden you're 43 and wearing pajamas to the grocery store. Aaaaaaahhh, Ghost of Christmas Future, don't let it be me!
Example 3: Washington DC gets cold. Like really cold. To protect myself from the ungodly temperature of this place the other day I decided to wear a turtleneck. This is the scariest part of the whole thing. I can't tell if turtlenecks are acceptable or not. Do you see how breaking the unwritten rule of dorky/ugly/fat erases lines of judgment? I don't know! I only own a few, and they are from Nordstrom, and they aren't baggy but I honestly don't know if they're wearable. How can I not know? My judgment is so clouded from shapeless work wear and rubber moon shoes I am losing touch with reality.
Help me Ghosts! Clear my judgment and show me the path that won't end in embarrassing my children when I pick them up from school where they make me drive around to the side so their friends won't see their greasy haired, un-showered, hoodless sweatshirt wearing mom at 3:30 in the afternoon. Help me remember that what I wear to work is ugly as sin and that as soon as I get home I should put on real life clothes and not sweats. Help me remember that heels can be everyday wear and not for special occasions, eek! This is my prayer, Ghosts. Please listen.
When I started nursing school and was told to buy white scrub tops, white scrub bottoms and white nursing shoes, I knew I was in for it. At that point I knew it was all ugly. The tops were so loose, the pants were weird and the shoes were possibly the most hideous rubber clog looking, Mickey Mouse bubble shoes I had ever seen. Follow me back with the Ghost of Christmas Past and watch in horror at my pained expression paying money in exchange for them. Watch my face as I hand over the credit card and you'll see flashes of pain, disgust, embarrassment and dread. Watch me as I put them on at home and kept pulling the back of the top so it would be tighter and show any hint of a waistline. Watch me as I stepped out of my car, one oversized cloggy white nursing shoe after the other, and went to my first day of school in scrubs.
Fast forward to present day. I have been working as a real live nurse for 6 months! I'm pretty proud of myself, all this fruition of dreams business - and the paychecks! It's divine. Plus I get to wear blue scrubs- no more white! And scrubs are so comfy, so loose! And my shoes are so spongy, it's like walking on the moon. This is where you should gasp! and notice the change. It's already happening. I'm becoming the women who alternate between scrubs for work, sweats at home with nothing in between but an old dress for church and some terrible kitten heels. (Disclaimer, I do not yet own kitten heels because I hate them. But I used to hate spongy, cloggy nursing shoes. The decline is so rapid! It's terrifying.)
For example, yesterday I woke up at 2:30 in the afternoon from working night shift, put on sweats and a robe, and never changed out of them. What's worse, I didn't even notice I wasn't dressed until after dinner, which means I ate Sunday dinner with my husband in sweats and a robe. Unacceptable.
Example 2: I worked on Christmas. Our uniform is blue scrubs top to bottom, every day, always. To show some festive something-anything- I wore Christmas tree earrings. This is true. I argued back and forth about it in my head, knowing I was standing at the edge of a very steep cliff and putting that tree in my ear was the same as taking one small step toward fashion demise that would send me plummeting face first into the canyon of lame, fashion less girl no one wants to be seen with, and I did it anyway. I wore them even though I knew they were dorky which is a terrible thing to do. I argued with myself, "But I am spending Christmas in the hospital. I need something to cheer me up and keep me happy for the patients who are spending Christmas there too*." Is not the unwritten rule of fashion to not wear things are that dorky, ugly or make you look fat? Ignore these and there are no rules at all and all of a sudden you're 43 and wearing pajamas to the grocery store. Aaaaaaahhh, Ghost of Christmas Future, don't let it be me!
Example 3: Washington DC gets cold. Like really cold. To protect myself from the ungodly temperature of this place the other day I decided to wear a turtleneck. This is the scariest part of the whole thing. I can't tell if turtlenecks are acceptable or not. Do you see how breaking the unwritten rule of dorky/ugly/fat erases lines of judgment? I don't know! I only own a few, and they are from Nordstrom, and they aren't baggy but I honestly don't know if they're wearable. How can I not know? My judgment is so clouded from shapeless work wear and rubber moon shoes I am losing touch with reality.
Help me Ghosts! Clear my judgment and show me the path that won't end in embarrassing my children when I pick them up from school where they make me drive around to the side so their friends won't see their greasy haired, un-showered, hoodless sweatshirt wearing mom at 3:30 in the afternoon. Help me remember that what I wear to work is ugly as sin and that as soon as I get home I should put on real life clothes and not sweats. Help me remember that heels can be everyday wear and not for special occasions, eek! This is my prayer, Ghosts. Please listen.
No comments:
Post a Comment