January 5th, 2005


I'm not a real girl - it's proven

Today was the dreaded Day of Buying Work Clothes. I looked forward to this with all the anticipation of buying a school uniform. In fact, probably less, because it involved buying shoes. I have a 'thing' about shoes. I hate them all. Shoe-shop assistants ask me what I think and I think 'yuck'. I have no idea why it's this way but I don't know whether shoes look good on me or not. I need somebody else's opinion, because if I were left to decide, I'd decide they all look horrible and end up buying nothing and have to get a job where I can wear Doc Martens to work.

Anyway, yay for long-suffering and honest friends with fashion sense. Just how -do- you show someone how much you appreciate them traipsing around hundreds of shops, holding your hand while you blub "I don't know, they all look awful" and taking stuff back to racks by the ton? Going backwards and forwards from Lambton Quay to Cuba Mall, carrying gradually more and more bags.. dealing with shoe-shop assistants while I stand behind them mouthing "Get me out of here". I appreciate it THIS MUCH and I have no idea how to demonstrate this appreciation.

I ended up getting five shirts, a skirt, a pair of pants, a jacket (yes Greg, but don't ask where I got it or you'll probably never speak to me again) and two, count em two, pairs of shoes. I spent just under $300. It took five hours. I had no idea shopping could be so exhausting. Now, I feel very fragile and like I'm about to burst into tears for no good reason, so I've flagged the potentially blub-inducing aikido in favour of chocolate, pooch and a quiet night in.

But it's done. I am the epitomy of corporate in my new gear. And it -does- look good. The shoes I'll get used to.
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    shopped out