Inappropriate(?)

I is for Inappropriate(?)

Last night my roommate borrowed a dress from my closet to wear to work today, and this morning it was hanging back where it came from. “It was too short,” she explained, probably knowing that anything above the knee while wrangling children was not going to be a wise choice.

I have longer legs than she does, and I’ve worn this dress to work at least six times and never considered that it might be wrong for work. I jokingly refer to it as ‘Steve Irwin’ because it looks a lot like this:

A few weeks ago, BF jokingly informed me that I “wouldn’t get past Betty at the front desk” if I tried to wear that day’s work outfit to his conservative employer’s business casual office. (A thick strap tack top and wide-legged linen pants, on a 96 degree day.)

When I realized that I'd been called out twice in one month for my work attire, I came to a halt and asked myself a very important question: Do I dress like a hussy?

Answer: No.

Agency life is strange in many ways and while I don't work in a big office, lots of things still translate to us small fish. There’s no such thing as business casual here- either everyone is in jeans and normal shirts on non-client days, or decked to the nines for meetings on or offsite. There's very little in between. If you’re headed to the printer, no need to stretch your legs trying to find your plastic flip flop under your desk; going barefoot’s cool. Last year we all cracked up when, on a halfday, our fearless leader showed up in a halter top. “Well I’m going out to the boat after, so why waste 2 tops? No one here cares!” (Even with this allowance, we have so far not exercised our apparent right to rock hotpants in the workplace.)

Here's to summer hours, and short skirts. If you don't think these things make up for the 10 hour days or the near-constant feeling of being in over your head, consider this: I've never, NEVER worn black slacks in the months of May, June, July, or August. The thought of doing so makes me shudder, so I cling to the chaos in gratitude. Then, I nod in agreement as a co-worker informs me that her shirt is really a $4 bathing suit cover up from Marshall's, and no one has even noticed. Get it, girl.