You know you've reached a whole new level of neurotic when you almost...nearly...practically have a panic attack about what you're wearing to work that day. So, here's how it started. Last night I decided I'd wear a skirt today. A VERY unusual move for me. I shaved my legs and everything in preparation. Got up this morning, put on a cute little jean skirt, black cowboy boots, long sleeved black T-shirt, and a cute little black blouse with white skulls and crossbones all over it (that most likely...probably...leaving very little room for doubt, violates teacher dress code), and pig tails to top it off. OK, you'd think that the shirt's what I got worked up about, but no, I don't mind testing dress code limits. Nothing on the frisky side, mind you, just on the outer extremities of OK side. I look at myself in the mirror for a quick cute check. Totally passable for a 44 year old broad. As I'm about to walk to the front room to grab my back pack and head to work, I catch a glimpse of my knees. MY KNEES!! Enter panic attack.
"How will I crawl around the classroom?" Because yes, my job requires some bit of crawling...every day, at some point.
"How will I sit criss-cross applesauce?" Obvious...no explanation needed.
"How will I work with a large group of three, four, and five-year-olds finger painting with RED paint and keep my cute outfit clean?" What can I say...it was the awesome plan for the day.
Before I consciously knew what was happening, boots were flying, blouse tossed, and on and on in a wild flurry of anxiety.
Blue jeans #1 pulled on (I have about ten pairs of jeans and I only wear two of them), blue T-shirt over my head, belt through the loops so my pants don't fall down when they bag out half-way through the day, feet shoved in my sandals, and WHEW! I could breath again. Off to work I went.
Epilogue: I crawled, I sat criss-cross applesauce, I got red paint on my jeans...awesome!
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