I thought I would wear something a little different to school today. Something from my closet, natch, but something other than say, button-down shirt and slacks. Something besides shirt and slacks. Something different from blazer and skirt. I tend toward funky jewelry and I have some sassy shoes, but lately, certain circumstances have been limiting my wardrobe.
I've been less than inventive. So you know what that means: anything off, anything different, say, haircut or color, brighter lipstick, or new belt or outfit, is That Much More Noticeable to those who are paying attention. Like the 1000 teenagers I see everyday.
Well, heck. I was getting sick of the couple of pairs of pants that still fit. So I dusted off a tiered black skirt and paired it with a turquoise-camisole-and-black-blouse combo. I added a turquoise necklace and my black cowboy boots--the ones with turquoise cutouts. I usually don't go so matchy-matchy. But this was not that obvious, I thought, as I threw on a black cardigan because it was cold this morning.
It was our late-school start/morning staff meeting day. I had a few compliments from colleagues on my fresh ensemble by the time I began striding across the quad en route to the Multi-Purpose Room. I wasn't feeling overly confident, however; I was under caffeinated and grumpy. But I was secretly glad that something was working, if not my husband's turn to set up the damn coffee maker.
By 10:10 I had downed the Triple-Non-Fat Latte I suggested would be appropriate for my husband to drop off at school and it was "Nutrition" Break for the kids. I headed out to the quad to mingle. One student, I had heard, had just been accepted to Macalester College; I would congratulate him and exchange sarcastic witticisms with his group of friends as usual.
But before I could be sincerely congratulatory, I was stopped cold by one student's greeting.
"Hello there, Ms. M.," she chirped, appraising me up and down. "Ummm...where is Shania Twain, and why are you wearing her outfit?"
Oh how I tried to come up with a witty lyrical reference. But my shallow store of country discography had me morphing Twain with Hill, and instead of proclaiming "Man, I Feel Like a Woman!" I mumbled something about a "slow and steady rush." And then I threatened a referral for that girl if I heard any more Shania Twain allusions before the end of the day.
Onward and upward. I am gearing up for Stevie Nicks Day.