Day of yuck.
The good news: I got a job interview! For Thursday. I like to stay pretty grounded about these things, I could hate it and I could also really fuck it up. They could discover that I am not yet driving on my own and not want to hire me just based on that. Or maybe it won't even be a job that I end up wanting.
Job interview forced me to go to a mall to buy appropriate clothing. So, I have a Macy's gift card and went to the only Macy's I know about, across from Ikea in a mall in Burbank. I guess that's all that really needs to be said: mall in Burbank. The center of the porn industry, and apparently also bad trashy mall stores for teenagers. I mean, where is a good old Banana Republic or J Crew when you need one already???
Everything, everything is too big for me. I tried on several suits that made me look like I was a small child who had borrowed a suit from my extremely large mother. Swimming in the suits, people. Then, I decided that social workers don't REALLY need to go to job interviews wearing suits. It's OK if I just get a nice top to wear with a very nice, expensive, and professional looking black skirt that is already in my closet. (no, I do not already have a nice top. I hate shopping, therefore these things are not just lying around in my closet waiting for me.) I give up on Macy's and go to look for other stores in the mall. The nicest store there was the Express. I go back to Macy's. It takes Derek (to put it mildly not known for fashion sense himself) to walk around the store with me pulling out appropriate tops because at this point I am deranged, unfocused, and hyperventilating. Not pretty. I finally found a decently professional looking shirt. It is still a little too big for me, but if I strategically safety pin it, my boobs won't fall out in the interview. Yeah!
And I still hate driving on the highway. I cannot imagine doing it unsupervised. All those big cars zooming past! Scary! But I did successfully paralell park two times. Did I mention only six more days before the behind-the-wheel test???
I am married to a patient saint.
Okay, and if you are out there reading this my dearests, on a more serious note, I received an email yesterday from the ex, yes, the one who is here and does not know I am here. Unless a mutual friend has told him. Just a friendly email, but we all know how that's gone before. So, once again, feeling very guilty about not telling him I'm here and about ignoring the email. Would like to think we could exchange friendly emails but don't trust him not to emotionally manipulate me and make me feel like shit. Please advise.
Job interview forced me to go to a mall to buy appropriate clothing. So, I have a Macy's gift card and went to the only Macy's I know about, across from Ikea in a mall in Burbank. I guess that's all that really needs to be said: mall in Burbank. The center of the porn industry, and apparently also bad trashy mall stores for teenagers. I mean, where is a good old Banana Republic or J Crew when you need one already???
Everything, everything is too big for me. I tried on several suits that made me look like I was a small child who had borrowed a suit from my extremely large mother. Swimming in the suits, people. Then, I decided that social workers don't REALLY need to go to job interviews wearing suits. It's OK if I just get a nice top to wear with a very nice, expensive, and professional looking black skirt that is already in my closet. (no, I do not already have a nice top. I hate shopping, therefore these things are not just lying around in my closet waiting for me.) I give up on Macy's and go to look for other stores in the mall. The nicest store there was the Express. I go back to Macy's. It takes Derek (to put it mildly not known for fashion sense himself) to walk around the store with me pulling out appropriate tops because at this point I am deranged, unfocused, and hyperventilating. Not pretty. I finally found a decently professional looking shirt. It is still a little too big for me, but if I strategically safety pin it, my boobs won't fall out in the interview. Yeah!
And I still hate driving on the highway. I cannot imagine doing it unsupervised. All those big cars zooming past! Scary! But I did successfully paralell park two times. Did I mention only six more days before the behind-the-wheel test???
I am married to a patient saint.
Okay, and if you are out there reading this my dearests, on a more serious note, I received an email yesterday from the ex, yes, the one who is here and does not know I am here. Unless a mutual friend has told him. Just a friendly email, but we all know how that's gone before. So, once again, feeling very guilty about not telling him I'm here and about ignoring the email. Would like to think we could exchange friendly emails but don't trust him not to emotionally manipulate me and make me feel like shit. Please advise.
posted by Melissa at 10:30 PM
3 Comments:
Do not reply, do not acknowledge, do not pass go. We DO all know where this has gone before and it's never good. And try not to waste any perfectly good guilt on him, either.
I have to agree. He has had many chances already to be normal about this. He has always failed.
And the shopping sounds pretty bad. I wish I could have been there to help you! I know we could have figured it out. Did you try to find the petites section, or was everything too big there too? Also, it sounds like you are shopping in the TOTAL wrong area. Must speak to Zach about where to find civilized shopping.
I'm thinking of calling you later this afternoon, so I hope you're around.
xo-
A
How was your interview?
A
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