From the Department of...

Yuck: I think I'm getting a sty (read: eyelid pimple), which does NOT serve to make a girl feel pretty. Like a hulking beast with oozing sores, yes. Feminine, no. I do feel the need to giggle at the definition, though: "An inflamed swelling of a sebaceous gland at the margin of an eyelid." Huh, huh, swollen gland. Yes, I'm 12.

Seeming Late-Onset Puberty: I wore a regular bra today instead of a bra tank. A "shelf bra," which the tank offers, is basically useless. It provides about 10% support but mainly just looks cute under tank tops with gaping sides and/or with a skirt in the summertime. It also gives one a place to hold chapstick when one is wearing shorts without pockets. Ahem. So today, my chest puppies are at full attention instead of being flopped over like they passed out after drinking too much. Though the support is nice and certainly a welcome change from looking in the mirror, frowning, and wondering why my boobs look like sad little pancakes, I also feel like I got breast implants. I also keep feeling myself up like today is the first day I've ever had boobs and they're going to disappear by tomorrow.

Yay: I started watching Season 3 of The Office last night and enjoyed a couple episodes this morning when I got up early (couldn't stop having nightmares) and had some cereal. It was a pretty nice way to start the day. Well, minus the bad dreams. And whiny George who's mad because I forgot to bring home cat litter last night.

Well, That Wasn't So Bad ... But It Was A Little Messy: I went to lunch with a client yesterday, which I was sort of dreading. The client is very nice, but I wasn't entirely sure what we were going to talk about and I wasn't feeling terribly professional or with it yesterday. The client in question is the epitome of class. She wears great outfits and walks around in killer heels like a pro. I showed up in loafers and lots of soft fabrics with a saucy scarf around my waist but didn't feel funky and unique. I felt unprofessional and underdressed in the swanky restaurant that recently went through a gerjillion-dollar renovation to become even more upscale than it already was. That said, lunch was nice, the client was fun to talk to, I inadvertently came out to her when I told her about my plans for later this summer (read: Michfest), and I hope I didn't make too much of an ass of myself. Knowing what I know now, though, I wouldn't have ordered the sandwich with the fancy, drippy mustard that splopped on my white shirt TWICE. Operation Classy: FAIL.

Fashion, darling: Over the weekend I added a couple shirts to my wardrobe in the beginnings of my attempt to look nicer at work. I guess my definition of "look nicer" means "more rayon." I'm still not ready to spend my day in a suit in the basement of my parents' home, but I think wearing a lot more dry-clean-only items would make me feel like I'm taking King V's directives to heart. I did add another primarily cotton shirt, but it's all patterned, so no one can tell. Also, the material is thinner than the Thick White V-Neck Wonder I wore to lunch yesterday. Which I am so retiring from my work wardrobe, even though the mustard stains came out. (Update: King V just saw my shirt and said very nice things about how I look. SCORE!)