Update:

I decided not to be in the running for the position that I was contemplating.  For a few reasons, but mostly because I didn’t feel that I was a good fit for the company.

Getting older has it’s perks.  One being that I really get to know who I am.  I now know that there are just certain things that I like and don’t like.  For instance, I love the ability to listen to music at work and joke around with people and dress the way I want.  I like doing that a lot.  I guess you could call it a kind of freedom.  Freedom that I don’t wanna give up.   It’s a fun atmosphere.  I’ve gotten used to it and I don’t want that to change.

The job I had interviewed for was going to deny me music, witty banter and stylish clothing.  I found out that I have a distinct aversion to business casual.  I guess that means that I’ll never have a job in the corporate world, and you know what, that’s okay. I’m a firm believer that everyone deserves to have a place that they feel comfortable in.  A place that allows them to be the best part of themselves and still conform to the desires of the company where they are employed.

It could be that my background in fashion and beauty won’t allow me to paint a picture that isn’t conducive to my sense of style.  That sounds pretty technical, and I try my best to not to go down that road.  How bout this:  I don’t do frump very well.  I can’t go against the cardinal fashion rules:  No pantyhose with open toe shoes.  Period.  In fact, no pantyhose at all.  Tights, yes.  Knee highs, if you must.  Just say NO to hose!  Your below-the-knee skirt makes your calves look fat.  Above- the-knee is unacceptable.  Cover that cleavage up with an ugly scarf that makes your neck sweat.  Jacket those flabby arms.  Dangly earrings are a no-no.  Leggings with a long sweater or tunic:  no, no NO!

Maybe I’ve become complacent at my current job or it could just be that I’ve become comfortable in my own skin, but I just don’t want to comply to somebody’s idea of what is “presentable”.  Does that make me a fashion rebel?  Maybe.  In fact, I kinda like that term.  It just could be that my days at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh during the punk era has made a permanent impact on me.  Perusing the streets of Pittsburgh with kool aid dyed pink hair might have done some damage.  I can’t be sure, really.  But I’m pretty sure it did.

I have complete understanding of what’s acceptable in any given situation.  If I choose to wear a low-cut dress to show off my assets, because they are few and far between at this age, I’m gonna do it in the RIGHT environment.  A mini ANYTHING isn’t appropriate for me anymore, and I’m not entirely sad about that.  If you follow my blog, you know about my obsession with shoes.  After 5 surgeries I still try to wear heels, just not as often.  Open toe, 4 inch heel, no panty hose biatches.  Ya, that’s how I roll.  Literally, I will probably roll on the ground because I have some trouble pulling that look off nowadays.  But hey, I still try!

So while I’m not gonna be making a boat load more money, I’ll be able to style up my look, listen to my tunes and make people laugh.  Is there anything more important than that?  Probably, but not right now, and not to me.

So please enjoy Madonna for a few minutes, throw on some heels and dance around the room like nobody’s watching.  Because somebody probably IS watching, even if it’s the dog, and they’re laughing.  And now I made someone laugh.

My job here is done.