Getting Dressed is Hard

I'm not very good at dressing myself. When I worked at the bookstore, I pretty much just rotated a series of v-neck tee shirts with skirts. In the café, it was even easier. I literally have two black polos, two button downs, two v-necks, and two long sleeve black tees. I dress myself like a cartoon character.

I shit thee not, I'm seriously working on a flow chart so I remember what looks good together. 

This system was all well and good until I got a fashion-y job. It's dumb. The owner wears Birkenstocks and the same purple linen shirt every day; the customers typically want sweaters and jeans. And yet, we the sales girls are expected to be dressed to the nines just to sell a rain slicker to somebody's nana. Most of the ladies I work with are very chic and good at dressing themselves, but me? Not so much. I compensate by wearing cute tights and alternating same two dresses/three skirt combos.

This girl is coping my style, and pairing it with a cute hat. 

In addition to being the worst dresser at work, I'm also the fattest. Don't get me wrong, I run all the time and eat my vegetables, but everyone else I work with weighs 100 pounds. Which means they fit in these tiny vintage dresses we post to the Etsy store (http://www.etsy.com/shop/stateandmainvintage)  and I do not. At first this kind of bummed me out. Everyone else got to play dress up, why not me? Turns out my skills lie elsewhere.

This is one of our dresses. The model is 5'1". 

Somehow I have become the IT go-to person. This is less a reflection of my web development skills and social networking prowess and more because everyone else is a Luddite. I can tell myself that my English degree was worth it because I'm technically being paid to write, even if it's just photo captions and product descriptions. I know people doing worse for less. Hell, I almost wrote for a furniture catalog, where it not for the hellish and unnecessary commute.

Maybe J. Peterman, someday. 

Last week I got to email a guy back with incredibly specific measurements of a tuxedo. Intense attention to detail is my wheelhouse! With bonus data entry! I reformatted the newsletter. When we needed a song as an mp3 and not a WMA, it was I who came to the rescue. (Seriously, I think my boss was going to try to suck the music out of a YouTube video.)

Whenever I get down on myself for not being pretty/skinny/well-dressed enough for this job, I can re-assure myself that at least I got brains. And I type faster than any of those bitches.