It's been a couple days since I posted, and last night as I was lying in bed, I could think of a hundred topics I wanted to tackle. Well, maybe "a hundred" is exaggerating a bit, but hey...what's life without a few instances of hyberbole? So it wasn't a hundred, but there definitely were quite a number of things running through my mind. Isn't it interesting how when I want to go to sleep, I can't help but keep a list flowing through my brain like the credits at the end of a movie, but when I actually want to make time to put a dent in said "list," I can't think of a thing that I thought I was thinking of before? Confusing? It sounded good in my head anyway.
All that to finally get to the point, which is, I discovered something about myself today. I, gentle reader, am in fact a bit of .... a rebel. I know. It's difficult to believe that someone so kind, so sweet, so seemingly "girl next door" could be rebellious against authority, but it's true. Case in point, the restaurant where I work is quite strict in regards to attire, particularly accessories and hairstyles. Our earrings cannot dangle or be larger than a dime. Our nail polish must be clear or natural looking. Our flyaway hairs must be tamed into submission with hair spray, and the mass of hair itself must be pulled back into a bun, braid, or ponytail that sports an elastic band for every two inch segment. Not to mention bangs. Bangs must be pulled back with a bobby pin or barrette of some sort so as not to fall flirtatiously into our eyes. In short, we must try to look as much as possible like the ladies in Robert Palmer's "Addicted to Love" video from the 80s (except for the makeup - way too risque for the business lunch set). I, however, do my best to go rogue whenever possible. My red locks shun the barrette with which the Man tries to subdue them. Sometimes, I pull hair out in loose tendrils just to see how much I can get away with. I wear jewel-toned shiny earrings (no bigger than a dime, mind you), but they do hang down a fraction of an inch beneath my chubby earlobes (fodder for another story entirely on another day perhaps). I refuse to shine my non-slip waiter shoes. And sometimes, if I'm feeling really feisty, I wear socks with stripes at the top. To be fair, the striped part is hidden under my pants, which I hemmed myself by the way, and which fall half an inch longer than management would like. But that's just the kind of girl I am, ladies and gentlemen. I answer to no one. I am an autonomous entity that goes it alone. Wild, unkempt, and definitely without hairspray.
Amen!
ReplyDelete