What to Wear to Work When You Don't Have Anything

Ble-eep! Ble-eep! Ble-eep! I turn around and slam the alarm and then lay in bed thinking ... what do I want to wear today?

I don't know about anybody else, but I tend to go through six different outfits before I decide on the "right" one. Even then, I will finish putting my make up and only to realize the shirt really wasn't the one I wanted. It's because I hate my clothes, I hate my wardrobe and i hate how I look in the clothes. Let's throw in a latex allergy and the joy of picking out clothes diminishes down even further. I think it is because I don't have the perfect body everybody thinks you need to wear certain sizes.

My butt fits into a size 8 -- well, the new size 8. The old size 8's are really a size 6 and so my butt does not fit into those. My waist fits into a size 10. So when i wear something that fits around my butt, I can't exactly close the zipper and button comfortably (although, I can close the zipper and button!). The clothes are so tight that my little muffin top tummy hangs over and I really, really detest seeing the flab with tight fighting clothes. That's not me.

I also have the joy of being taller than most people who generally wear a size 8 or 10. I am the right height (5 foot, 7 inches) but my legs are much longer than "normal" people because when i buy pants, I end up with duck waders and about two inches from the bottom of the pants to the floor. My arms are long and lanky so I need to find large or extra-large shirts just to get some length in the sleeves. Of course, my boobs swim all over in these shirts because the rest of the shirt is too big.

Speaking of the female mammory glands... Age may improve cheese and whine but only plastic surgery can improve sagging boobs. Since I cannot afford form-fitting clothing that enhances my God-given attributes of long legs and long arms, I certainly cannot afford perkier, fuller, and cup-filling breasts. The sag has gotten to my body and I am embarrassed to admit that even the expensive brassieres fail to bring the lift and complete the ful"fill"ment they purport.

Ble-eep! Ble-eep! Ble-eep! Maybe I should just call in sick today with a materializing wardrobe headache.