Adaptation Necessity

I'm all pooped out from one job interview and some laundry. What am I going to do when I'm working, which it's lookingl ike I might be doing soon? Of course, I have been one huge frayed nerve about this job thin, and that's bound to wear a girl out. I don't sleep as well, and I'm tensed up all the time. It's exhausting! All this pressure looking for a job is going to make the actual job a breeze.

I think the stress made all my fingernails suddenly start splitting and tearing too. I've been diligently refraining from picking at them and chewing around them (I never had a problem chewing the actual nails.), so they grew quite long for my standards, extending about an entire 1/8 inch beyond my fingertips, a feat only previously done by my pinky fingers. I impressed my own self with such discipline and toyed with the thought of a manicure. A real one, not one I do at home. Then suddenly yesterday, on nail tears. Then another. Two later start peeling, and one get a quick-threatening crack. I gave in to the inevitable end of lovely nails and trimmed them all. Even after that, two more have torn and another just broke right off. Now I have two painfully short nails and the rest with just a smidge of white on the end. Hopefully no interviewer will be judging me on nail uniformity. At least they are always clean.

My appearance at interviews is one of my greatest causes of concern. Besides the whole nail mess, which didn't stress me so much as simply irritate me, I worried about my size and my clothes and even a little about my hair. I always keep make-up simple, which is a daily routine anyway, so no worries there at least. But the clothes, man. The clothes!

Not only was I just plain concerned with a neat and professional appearance, but I wanted something that didn't make me look like a tractor-trailer hauling half a double-wide mobile home. I also didn't want to do the mono-black thing because nothing screams fat-girl-trying-to-look-slimmer than wearing all black. I wanted to at least try to look confident with my size. I chose a navy skirted suit with a soft-as-a-cloud light blue turtleneck hoping that wasn't too conservative and dressy for a PT tech candidate.

I still wish I bought the navy hose of instead of the nude, especially when I got in the truck after the interview to find one of my hairs on my calf between my leg and the hose, glaring like a beacon. I still don't know how on earth a hait fit between there considering I had to pour myself into the things in the first place. Thank God there wasn't some kind of explosion from a pantyhose breach from the pressure. Another thing with those pantyhose, how do they qualify whiter than my pasty legs as nude? Nude for an albino maybe. At least pantyhose are not typical attire for a PT tech. I just have to endure them (and try to make this one pair last) for the interviews.

I had other worris about shoes. I don't have navy shoes. Black doesn't go with navy, but I wasn't sure if that extended to shoes. Plus all my black shoes are a little too chunky except for the perfect pair that eat my feet for a snack. I wasn't about to wear sadistic shoes on a job interview. My last option was a very lovely pair of dark brown shoes. But something in the back of my head was saying brown shoes would be very bad. Didn't I hear something about not trusting someon in brown shoes? Was I dooming myself? My horoscope did say it was a bad day for job interviews. I chose the brown shoes anyway. I thought they looked very nice. If I don't get a job offer, I'm blaming it on those shoes.

And the hair stuck in my panythose.

Any my stupid nails.

Dinner sounds like a good idea. And wine. Wine in preparation for tomorrow's interview. John thought it would be easier after the first one, but I'm not feeling it. I'm as nervous as ever, but there's a little excitement in it now and not just a sickly nervousness. Still, wine would be good, maybe before dinner even.