Maeko's blog

I’ve been wearing this mofo wayyyyyyyy too much.

Like 8 times and I haven’t washed it yet because I don’t want to live a day without it. LOL. Kidding. That’s just gross.

THEREAFTERISH~

There is a woman here at the office who slightly resembles a Mennonite. I know she is not, though, because she wears makeup, profanes, and works at this establishment and drives a nice car; not a nice, nice car, but a pretty decent one, better than average. Perhaps she doesn’t possess the extreme humility of outward appearance of a Mennonite, but she makes me wonder if she were a Quaker in another life. She wears a mantle of embroidered wool, with those hokey country quaint patterns on them, a creme-coloured confection topped with coral pink and orange sprinkles. She always wears long skirts with pleating (usually made for women with Muffin-Top syndrome) in boring warm earth tones and oranges and her tops under her mantle-poncho usually fall within the autumnal colour pallete. Boring, wholesome, 50’s farm marm kind of stuff.

She’s not of the type that merits noting on this site. She’s not out of the norm from many of the women here. She fits right in. Though she is a bit more country-crock-traditional than most of my marmy, heavy-set work colleagues, she doesn’t stand out in any particular way that I should spend time writing about her. It’s not how she dresses that puts a nettle in my hat.

I think she’s got a rotten attitude.

This is a dangerous assumption often made of shy people, but I think she has proven herself not to be shy. She and I have spoken on more than one occasion, and never once has she exhibited the ability to smile. At me. I don’t know if she’s rascist, or if she doesn’t like me because I’m skinnier than she–which has been the case with some of the other women here. I pass her at least two or three times a week as we wind our way through the cornflower blue cotton walls of the cubicle maze, or run into each other coming opposite ways near the washrooms. Each time I encounter her, I smile wide, grin right at her, or say hello cheerfully. Most times she will eye me with a quizzical, unfriendly look and keep passing with nary a word of greeting in return. Rude.

This morning it really bothered me.

Now, I take particular pride some days in the way I dress. Dressing well makes me feel accomplished and collected. I feel proud that I am able to dress myself well without spending hundreds on the clothes I have. I am cheap and occasionally chic. Today is such a day, though I’m unmade up facewise.

Again I passed her in the fabric by-lanes of the maze of this office, and I beamed at her. This time, she gave me the up-down eye and looked right at me with a frowny squint and then walked right past me. ME! She gave me stink eye, she in that lamb rug she calls a piece of clothing. Why does this woman frown at me when all I do is say hello and smile at her? It’s almost upsetting considering the effort I put into greeting her with a smile, knowing she is sort of new here. I’ve learned to move past the other frowning frau-bags, because they are quite, quite large, and I’m sure they think I’m a dieter or one of those girls who eats like a bird. I assure you, I so am not. I eat like shit (despite being a vegetarian), and I eat a lot. So, I obviously don’t care because they can’t help being envious of a skinny girl and hating her guts because they choose not to control themselves. But this woman isn’t quite on their level yet. What is her excuse? Why this overt dislike?

She ain’t shy, so what the fuck?

Why are people so rotten? Despite my hating this job many times and many days, I try to be the best person I am in the day when I am here. I smile at others, even if I’m crumpling with anger inside. I wave and make chatties with the wonderful women at the front desk. I joke and laugh with my cubicle department mates, because that’s how we get by.

But this Quaker woman? What is her reason?

BLOGLBOGLBOGBLOGBLOGGLOBGGLOBGLOBBLOG

THEREAFTERISH~
It’s grey outside. I just feel like wearing dark colours.

I’m wearing sunnies inside, not because I’m a total chode who just wears sunglasses inside for the whim or the look, even though it’s completely insensible…, but because I didn’t make my face up, and I am going through a total rash of teenage angsty acne onslaught.

BLOGLBOGLBOGBLOGBLOGGLOBGGLOBGLOBBLOG

When I think of going back to basics, I think, simple cottons and fabrics, and staples with function.

Black.
A nice stylish, but warm coat.
A bag big enough to hold essentials without looking like a hand-luggage.

I think there is simplicity inherent in the colour black. Not only is it flattering to most people, it also matches most prints. Black works with this particular season, too.

I can’t extol the many reasons for having a great black coat. It just works.

And though we’re talking about simplicity here, and perhaps adornment in the form of a headscarf (as I am wearing here), but contradict my argument… I don’t think so. Anything as simple as a silk scarf as a solitary adornment to an outfit can enhance an overall look without overloading someone with arm armour or door-knockers hanging from the ears. It evokes chic-ness without trying too hard, whilst also covering bad bed hair.

Maybe the women in the 60’s really did have a great, wonderful secret.

GLOB BLOG GLOB GLOBBLOG
~*Thereafterish

~*Thereafterish

I run to the bathroom and furtively curl my lashes and apply three coats of two different mascaras on them. Lazy, I don’t mind starting the day without alteration, but ending it unmade is unthinkable.

Blog GLob Blog GLOB

~*Thereafterish

The air smells like dirt, breathing out of drenched sod. It smells like earth worms and puddles. The sky is endless grey, formidable, no light peeking through.

And I remember irrational fear, bubbling under my skin.

Earth worms, the rains, the cold, the pounding, insane fright.

I slam a hard-brewed coffee down, burn my throat, and try to forget the fear, try to keep it at bay.

Thankfully, the fear dissipated by 9AM. And now I’m left with the thought of what I can do during my lunch hour to occupy the time. Stupidly, unconsciously, I ate my afternoon snack apple this morning after I finished a helping of soup, not realising it was the perfect accompaniment to a turn about the office with Edith Hamilton’s Mythology in my hand. Oh, here I am playing a part again, of the studious office lady, reading while she exercises her legs.

Well, reading and snacking in the office while taking a turn around the building is much preferable to napping in the car. Getting to the car involves potential contact with the dreadful five-inch beasts. I’d rather stay inside and be, healthy than go outside and deal with them.

glob glob glob glob blog