I have not worked in ten years. I will soon be attending a workshop for my field in the hopes it will kick start my unused vocabulary and signs. Languages are funny. It turns out if you don’t exercise the vocabulary, it simply goes away and moves into the brain of someone who appreciates it and will use it regularly.
So on the eve of my very brief trip back in time to when I was a functional member of a workforce that gets paid in currency rather than body fluid, I should be stressing about the possibly (and likely) language barrier. Instead I’m freaking out about my wardrobe.
I think it’s just a weird form of denial, actually, but I cannot choose what I’m wearing. Do I go weekend casual with jeans and a t-shirt? It’s going to be 90 degrees and I have no idea how widespread the a/c will be. Do I go professional and wear black from top to bottom as is the interpreter uniform? Again, 90 degrees. … also the last time I wore slacks was at a funeral five years ago. We all know those suckers aren’t making it over the thunder thighs.
Do I represent myself as I am? Grocery shopping yoga pants and a hoodie?
What the hell, man? It’s like my only options are homeless yoga dropout, or failed professional.
I guess I should find something in the middle…. like Moms Night Out attire. Ambiguous. Non committal. .. with makeup and hair.
What have I gotten myself into?! It’s like all the ways I can stand out and announce that I don’t belong are determined to happen.
I know that I can do this, but the question is can I do it in jeans? And what about the shoes?!!
Sarcasmica 