Moccasin anyone?

So maybe I told you or not, my job is ending. Not like tomorrow, but within the next eight months. I have time to prepare. Time to freak out. Time to have a melt down, and time to see what else is out there. I have been at my current job for seven years, so big changes are a foot for me.

I had my first interview in eight years recently. It felt oddly similar to doing a triathlon regarding the nerves. I didn't sleep the night before, my stomach was in knots that morning. I had nervous ticks and weird crazy person energy. The important part is that I had the support of my family and friends, well sort of. Here's how my morning went:

I got up on time. Went to make coffee trying to wake up since the night before I killed myself running track and swimming. There were no coffee beans to speak of. Nowhere in a house that goes to Costco was there a bean to behold! So I dragged myself (sans bra it was that bad) over to the Starbucks to get my caffeine on. Gently ignoring friends voice in my mind "don't over caffeinate pre-interview you don't want to be a spaz". I showered and was able to get dressed successfully, while Husband woke and dressed The Toot. Here's where the lack of support came in. I said to Husband after I was dressed, hair curled, make-up on, outfit in place: "How do I look?" to which he responded: "I hate those shoes, they are ugly and stupid and completely inappropriate for a job interview, even if you are interviewing at a laid back place. Otherwise you look great". I then said "Thanks for your support" and left the room. He followed up with an encouraging "you asked me to tell you!"

I was wearing Moccasins with my dress if you must know. I am known for my eclectic style of clothing. It's who I am and you either love it or hate it. Most people I find actually really love it and appreciate my style sense. Some though, have a mixed response. I have definitely gotten: "that dress is interesting" before, but it doesn't bother me. I can't explain why or how this all came to be, but I really have no self consciousness when it comes to clothes, make-up or hair. I really truly literally, don't care what others think and dress entirely for myself. Sometimes to my detriment, but mostly I find to my 'joie de vie!' Husband particularly is not impressed with my wacky sense of style. He has often over the years been entirely nonplussed about a certain outfit, only to be shocked when a restaurant waiter compliments me on the exact same outfit. He has even told me that he has learned over the years to not make a comment, because it has happened time and time again that he will then that same day be taken aside by whomever to be told how great my outfit is-no joke, it's happened before. He has come to the understanding that he just doesn't always 'get it'. He does however, have a great sense of when something doesn't fit properly or makes one look fatter then necessary- which is of course of great use. So I will from time to time get his input just to see how the other half live, as well as to make sure my butt doesn't look big in a pair of jeans.

This particular morning I already knew how he would feel about the Moccasins. I know he hates them. He was with me in the tiny town of Lone Pine in the mountains when I bought them at the Native American Indian knick-knack store. I knew what he thought of them then. I tried to warn him prior to asking his opinion interview morning, by saying: "don't include the Moccasins in your overall assessment on this outfit", but he just couldn't help himself. It was like watching someone with Tourettes. I thought he might say 'you look great!' and be done with it honestly. I didn't really think he would need to go into the moccasin debate of 2012 the very morning I had my first interview in eight years.

I really thought long and hard for about one minute before coming to the conclusion: that Husband wouldn't be in this interview. This whole job interview shebang was all about me, and the work I have done over the last 13 years, and to be plain and simple- it had nothing to do with him. I looked in the mirror and made the executive decision that the moccasins stayed, because it was part of what made 'me' me, and if I didn't get hired because of wearing suede lace up Indian boots then it wasn't the kind of place I wanted to work anyway.

The irony of course to all of it is that this is one of the reasons Husband loves me, cause he knows I don't always listen to him.