When I left work this morning, I swiped my card on the Kronos machine and pivoted towards the stairs. As I turned, I saw Geoff with red hair walking my way. Geoff is a work friend, but I am hesitant to even call him that. He is funny to talk to and super nerdy like me but he is also the person who tells me when I do things wrong, which is all the time because I am a rebel and try to loophole required fields on processing documents (intentionally and unintentionally). Also, I think he thinks I am ridiculous, and that suspicion was confirmed today. When I saw Geoff, I smiled and waved like usual. No big. I started to pass him on the stairs, but then he stopped me.
"Lissa," he said
And I thought, "What did I do wrong now? If he tries to correct me, I am going to tell him I need to get going." But that is not what I said. Instead, I tentatively squeaked "Yes?"
"I wasn't sure that was you when I first saw you."
"Oh," I replied, trying to make an escape before he told me he needed to talk to me about my work performance.
"I have something to tell you," he said and I knew I was in trouble.
"Yes?" I said again. Apparently, when I think I am going to be lectured I don't know what else to say.
"I have never seen you wearing something so... muted." (Actually, I'm not sure that's what he said, but it was along those lines.)
"Say what?"
"Yeah, you usually wear something bright. Like red."
"Oh."
"And you're wearing brown and pink today..."
"Well," I informed him, "Sometimes I wear black."
"Yeah, but when you do, you wear it like BAM! Like your bag."
"Well, I love my bag," I told him. Then I laughed and started walking up the stairs, but he stopped me again. He said something else about me wearing colorful clothes.
And I said, "I am going to take that as a compliment."
I was halfway up the stairs by this point and there were people around me. Geoff stood by the foot of the stairs as he said, "Well... it's not a compliment, but it's not--"
I cut him off. "I'm taking it as a compliment."
And then I made my escape. I didn't even get in trouble for my processing skills (or lack thereof).
But now I know that people, even boys, pay attention to what I wear. I think that is weird, because I don't remember much of what I wear. I remember sometimes, but not always.
Let me rephrase that: I can remember what I wore when memorable events happened. For example, the pink tank top I have on today- Right after I got it, I wore it when I had one of my first kisses with Jon, a boy I dated in high school. I think I wore this tank top (under a white wife beater) to a frat party at Mizzou when I proclaimed my (or rather Kelly's) black and pink mini skirt B. Spears worthy. I also wore this tank top when Anna came to visit me in Salt Lake. I also wore this tank top both summers of EFY. I also wore it one late night not last summer, but the one before while I talked to David (who will no longer acknowledge my presence on campus, but that is okay) on a hill by a parking lot. I wore it when I went home this summer and watched Sophie. I paired it with a purple wife beater and cut off, rolled up shorts and flip flops and it felt like summer. I wore it today when I talked to red-headed Geoff on the HBLL stairs. I think it came from Kohl's years and years ago and I wash it every two weeks. It is starting to get holes.
And my brown shirt? Well, it's history is not as long, mostly because I don't always like to wear it. When I wear it, I usually wear it under that white smock dress of mine, but that presents a problem because it likes to snake its way up to my ribcage. BUT I know I wore it the day after my birthday last September. We had a bonfire, that originated as a Cowboy and Indian bonfire, only to get shot down and become a normal fire. Also I liked to wear it tucked into jeans and skirts because it cannot ride up that way. I am just thankful I am skinny enough to tuck my clothes into my clothes. So maybe I do wear it a lot, but it has not seen as much life as my tank top.
My jeans, my shoes, and my sweater were all acquired over Christmas, thus they have no history.
But WAIT. That is a lie. My shoes have a history. Two Mondays ago, Provo was covered by a blizzard and I, Elisabeth Bogart, did not feel the necessity to wear boots. Instead, I wore the shoes I wore today. They are cute cloth flats with no traction and while I wore them, I thought I was going to slip and die. I should have been concerned for my welfare, and I was until Chad helped me down the walkway, but my mind couldn't help worrying that my shoes would be ruined (which they weren't, thank heavens).
That is all I have to say today.
OH. And the other day I fixed the toilet. Yes. I fixed the toilet and Becci helped. Kinda. I am working on expanding my talents.
