I keep waiting for TLC’s What Not to Wear to ambush me at the office. It could easily happen given the number of times people have told me they’ve considered nominating me and my sorry wardrobe for the television series. I envision the show’s hosts, Stacy and Clinton, calling a press conference in which they gleefully donate all of my work uniforms to a local homeless men’s shelter. Well, any of the clothes they don’t burn or toss into the industrial-sized dumpster they’ve parked in front of my house. I can’t quite fathom what they’d do with my hair and make-up so let’s not go there today.
All I know is that clothing, shoes, accessories and makeup have never been a priority for me or the credit cards in my 12-year old purse. My sisters have tried helping me with my hair and my aunt used to love making me her Mary Kay model (for laughs at family gatherings). But for most of my early adulthood, I only had enough money for the important things in life: gas in the used car, a rental apartment, food and vet check-ups for the cats, some Boone’s Farm in the fridge, and stale chips and salsa with a beer at the local Mexican restaurant a couple of times a month.
Thankfully, I could land jobs easily with the few acceptable suits and dresses I maintained; that and a decent “nice” factor on the disposition scale. Once on the job I could play up the “pleasant, easy going, agreeable, just-smart-enough” personality quotient long enough to get through the probationary period. I would then start intermingling my professional getups with my less-than-casual-Friday attire. And before my employer knew what hit them, I’d depart for a new job where my wardrobe could start fresh with a new set of co-workers.
Now that I’ve somehow managed to work with the same people for a record-setting 8 years (4 years was my prior record), I’m having major apparel issues. I think it’s fair to say that I still have clothes that I wore on day one, 8 years ago. And thanks to some recorded training I did, some of those clothes are forever available for viewing on video on demand by the 50,000 people who also work for my employer.
But there’s something worse than wearing the same old work clothes. What is it? Wearing the same old yoga clothes. In a led class where the teacher just directs from the front of the room, it’s not that big of a deal; unless that teacher feels led to initiate some of those annoying and unexpected partner postures. You might as well take your torn, stinky old Lululemons right on home before subjecting another yogi to all that hot mess.
One thing’s for sure with Mysore Ashtanga Yoga: you will never be subjected to partner yoga. On the other hand, the teachers provide so much assistance that if one day they don’t help you, I guess you can just assume that your clothes smell bad.
Guess I better get me some new yoga attire just to be on the safe side. In the meantime, for all of you who have threatened to nominate me for the show – I dare you – I’m ready for my What Not to Wear close up.