I woke up late, per usual. Actually no, I woke up at 8am but layed in bed trolling the internet until the absolute last minute. Then I rushed to get ready and get to work on time, on time meaning 9:08. I hurry in, check my email, put my eyebrows on and try to get my shit together.
Usually around 11am when I go to fill up my water bottle, I get a clear head to toe look at myself in the reflection of the vending machine, and it is not the look. I’m like damn, I look like garbage, I should get chips to make me feel better. I now have to go the rest of the day being consciously aware that I look like a bitch who tumble dries her knits, then rolls around in cat hair. It also never fails that the chicest and most put-together women I know, Kate, decides to come say hi to me and catch up on days like this. I think to myself “This could be you but you have an altered perception of reality and think 10 min is an adequate amount of time to look like a human”. It takes me a minimum of 10 min to fill in my eyebrows yall, no bullshit.
What’s worse is, I know it's my fault that I look like hot trash, but keep on sleeping. I tell myself I’m going to be better and at the very least put on my eyebrows at home, but never do. Sometimes I pick my outfit out the night before, but that's usually because I have a meeting with people five times above my paygrade. The rest of the time I wake up in the morning and tell myself the same lie. Which is something to the effect of “I’m chic af, and I’m gonna just go in my closet and throw on some cool outfit because I’m the shit”. I finally get up and go in my closet, only to see the pile of clothes I was supposed to hang up a week ago.
Which in turn means I either grab something hella basic or decide I want to try something new. Like “Hey, I never wear these light grey jeans, why don’t I give those a try”. Fast forward to half way through the work day as I gaze into the snack machine remembering it’s because they make me look fat. I have a rule, no light jeans ever, unless I miraculously obtain a thigh gap. I should just throw them out so I’m not tempted, but I’m a hoarder of clothes I “might” wear. So there I go walking to work, thighs rubbing, wondering if maybe this was a mistake. But I can’t turn back now because I’m already 8min late.