Dress Like An Adult


And like that.

I’ll be taking a car into work.

I am not going to go into my graduate school interview in Converse and toting a messenger bag.

I will need to bring an extra sack to carry my Converse in, I’ll still be working a half day at work, but I will change out my shoes when I show up at the school.

I will be taking a car into work and then another to the school.

I’m not fucking around.

I don’t care the cost.

I mean, all things considered, $30,000 a year, what’s a few more bucks for an Uber.  Might as well blow my cash while I still have some, like I have even a tenth of that in my savings (but at least there’s something in my savings), before I get hit with the tuition bill.

Because I will.

Have to pay tuition, that is.

Because I am getting in.

That is all.

And I will be dressed like an adult.

I spoke with a dear friend earlier today while having the boys out at the park in the late afternoon about how to go in and whether I should ride my bicycle to work, and you know, just fretting about the small stuff.

There’s a part of me that thinks, I could show up messy and slightly unprofessional, but why?

Why not show up like this is important to me.

I can dress like an adult.

I can.

Damn it.

I don’t have professional clothes, I never really have had a profession that requires tidy clothes, I mean, yeah when I was doing restaurant work, I had a uniform.

But professional clothes?

Not so much.

I do have some good jeans, dressy ones from Banana Republic and a nice blouse and camisole, I’ll do my hair up tidy like, sport out my new frames, and wear a pair of heels.

I have a jean jacket that will pass for my coat.

That’s really something that I don’t have–a decent jacket.

But my jean jacket is nice, and tailored and it will do.

I could also go with a pair of really nice black cords I have, but then I don’t have a jacket at all that will work with the heels.

I have two pairs of platform sandals and two pairs of wedge sandals.

None of them are appropriate.

But.

I do have one nice pair of Chinese Laundry Mary Janes in a taupe color that will pass for nice shoes and they look great with the jeans and when I put them on I felt more grown up.

I don’t often feel like an adult, truth be told, I still feel a lot like a big kid.

Which is, I am certain, part of what makes me so relatable to children.

I do sometimes wonder what it would look like to dress like an adult, but for the time being, I’m just working the jeans and the leggings.

Fortunately for me, I live in San Francisco and that is more than passable for women.

I don’t even really come across as a professional nanny half the time, but I am colorful and that I believe works in my favor.

I also can recognize that anxiety about my clothes comes from a very long history of not having enough money, especially when I was growing up, of not having the right clothes or outfit or shoes, or things that fit or were attractive.

I fed into the negative by also being a heavy-set girl.

The internet was not around and plus size clothing was not a thing.

I cannot tell you how welcome Lane Bryant was to me at one point in my life; and how, at another point in my life, I was grew out of Lane Bryant, but I went the opposite direction and down sized, literally, myself right out of their clothes.

I could still use some help dressing, but it’s not because my options are limited to size.

They may still be a bit limited due to budget, but that is slowly changing as well.

When I look at my closet there’s more options than there has been in a long while.

I could still use some help and I can see where I could have some nicer things, but really, I am so grateful I have what I have.

I’m clothed, I have a roof over my head, I have a job to go to, I have a bicycle, I have the option to take a car into work, I have a Vespa.

A Vespa that has been diagnosed!!

I may not say this correct, I had a gentleman swing by this evening and lend me a hand and I asked him tell me a few times what was wrong with it so I could repeat it to the mechanic: the “Pep cock” is broken in the fuel tank and needs to be fixed and there’s probably something clogging the carburetor.

Awesome.

I have no idea what that means, well, a little, it means that the fuel is not really getting to the engine, which is why it’s been dying all the time.

So when I get a moment to think about something other than the interview tomorrow, I will call the mechanic who put the new engine on the Vespa, and let him know what is happening and that I will need to drop it off for help.

It turns out Vespa San Francisco doesn’t do any work on vintage Vespa scooters.

Oh well.

Either that or I take it to Barry at the Scooter Center.

I’ll probably take it up to Chris Ward in the Tender Nob, next to my salon, Solid Gold, and get my hair done, kill two birds with one stone.

I’ll call up the motorcycle tow guy and tow the scooter up to Chris, he’s the one who put the new engine in it for my friend before he sold it to me, and have him fix it and pop out the little dent in the front fender.

Then maybe I’ll go on a ride or fifteen.

Glad to be finally growing up.

And dressing like it too.

Wish me luck!

I’ll be keeping you posted.

In style.

Grown up like.

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