Today started off badly. First there was the twenty-minute wait for the bus, and then the bus driver didn't know how to operate the back doors. Also, it is raining and I have a headache.

Today is the company holiday party (after work), and one of the administrative assistants is dressed beautifully in a black velvet mandarin-collar jacket, an ivory taffeta pencil skirt with a black illusion embroidered overskirt, and black velvet pumps. When I saw her, I said, "Ooooh, ohmigosh, so pretty! You look beautiful!" and then I thought for a moment about how I don't deserve to go to the D_rake for NYE, and then I went back to my desk and cried. CRIED!

I don't know why I cried. Maybe because I don't even have a decent work outfit in my closet, let alone something lovely and snazzy like that. I've been pulling out my winter clothes, and now I remember that when I acquired these things I was still trying to disappear inside oversized clothing. I like myself a lot better these days, and the frumpy boxy clothes are a real downer.

In fact I can barely put together a casual outfit, because if my one pair of jeans is dirty I'm sunk. My casual wardrobe consists of a couple of t-shirts, a couple of knit tops, two sweaters, and a pair of jeans. Many times I have tried to acquire a couple more pairs of jeans, only to find that my body--at least according to the people who make jeans--is that of a freak. Without fail, if the jeans fit in the thighs, the waist is miles too big. And please don't talk to me about the low-rise bit. For me--with my stretch marks and my poochy little belly--the low-rise jeans are just wrong, all wrong. In the last five years I've found exactly one pair of jeans that fit my body.

Hm. I'm all upset about my clothes. Or am I? I don't even know. I'm also starting to hate my job. I need some ibuprofen. Gah.

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