So. I dressed up a little today for work. I wore – shocker – a dress. A cute lil polka dot number with cap sleeves that playfully channeled the 40s. I topped it off with a pink belt and some clean black heels. Simple. I had no less than, well, most of the people I work with, comment on this fact.
“Well yoooou look [eyebrow raise] niiiice today [suspect sideways glance]. What do yooooou [eyebrow pump x 2] have going on tonight, hmmmm??”
Cue the Pance [blush, shrug, nervous grin because-I-appreciate-the-notice-but-don’t-really-want-the-extra-attention] answer, “Uhhh, thanks, nothing really.”
No, I don’t normally dress up. Yes, I like to feel pretty and make an honest attempt at it once in a while . And maybe I don’t always have to have an ulterior motive to do so. No hot date with J Tims, no job interview, no chance to be discovered via a film shoot in my ‘hood. Can’t a girl just enjoy marching to the click of her own heels? It worked for Dorothy. And those heels, I might add, I wish I had ditched circa 11:30pm to better endure the walk, train, walk, train, bus, walk commute I had to my front door. There’s no place like flip-flops.