Sweat Pants Redux

Okay, so I'm a full-time freelance writer. What this means is that I spend an inordinate amount of time alone in front of my computer. I have designed my work space to somewhat resemble a cubicle to give me the feel of the newsroom, though there are no cubicle mates to share pens, ideas or colds with. I have cork board on the wall to my left with all sorts of random photos, quotes and cards. I think it looks like a cool cube.

Working from home has its advantages and disadvantages. Amongst the advantages is nobody cares how I'm dressed when I interview them on the phone. I however do care, and everyday, after I workout, I shower, put makeup on and dress. Every couple of weeks or so though I feel like being cozy, and after the shower put on comfy pants, sneakers and a sweater. Herein lies a problem.

See, I'm single. Hard to believe that someone so totally awesome and witty could be single I know, but it's true. I also live in a very small seaside town where meeting someone to date isn't always easy. Add to this the working from home aspect of my life, and well, it's not surprising that some days the only living creature I interact with in person is my cat.

Several weeks ago at the post office - the epicenter of any small town, I ran into a very cute guy. We looked at each other and knew we'd met but couldn't place each other. Being the charmer I am I said something pithy like, "I know I know you, just can't remember how." It ended up I had interviewed him a couple of years ago for a story. I did the subtle glance for the ring, didn't see one, and thought hmmm, I wonder if he IS married?

The only not-so-great thing about the encounter was I was in fact wearing comfy pants and sneakers. Yeah, so not how I want to look when meeting a cute guy.

I forgot about the encounter, and a couple of weeks later I ran to the corner store to grab something for dinner. There he was. And there was I. In my comfy pants. Again. Why hadn't I run into him the day before when I was wearing my Lucky jeans and cute blazer? We exchanged pleasantries, I prayed he didn't remember I was wearing the same velour pants he'd seen me in before, but there was no way of knowing.

So, wouldn't you know, another two weeks later, on a Saturday at the dump, and guess who I see? Yes, Mr.I'm-Probably-Judging-You-But You-Wouldn't-Know-It-Because-I'm-Way-Too-Polite. And of course, since you don't exactly dress up to recycle and throw trash away, I was wearing what must have made me look like a woman in desperate need of a telethon thrown on her behalf to get her some new clothes.

By the fourth time I ran into him, dressed in, well, I'm sure you know, I just gave up. It's a lost cause. I don't even care anymore. To him I am sure I am etched in his mind as the woman who only wears sweatpants, and that's okay. If he can't beyond the sweatpants he'd probably never get past all the Hello Kitty stuff around my house either.

Well,I've got to run to the store now to get something for dinner. It's been a rainy, dreary, January day, and I've been home writing all day. I bet you'll never guess what I'm wearing.