Revising History

Have you heard? Size 12 is the new size 10; 40 is the new 30 (and 50 takes 40's place as well).

Maybe it's a Baby Boomer thing, rewriting history or facts to suit your own situation. I know my dad did a lot of revisionist history, shaping himself in stories to be the kind of father he never was in real life. But lately I appreciate a good revision myself, and I look for opportunities to make changes in myself where they won't be noticed as much.

Why hide change? Well, another way at looking at change is to admit that the way you once did things or looked or what have you was wrong, or not good, or some other negative connotation. (In fact, every positive sentiment can be flipped to be negative, and vice verse...)

Vacations are a good time for me, personally, to try out new hair styles or fashion looks. This works out for me particularly because I make such a big deal normally of not caring about my looks, so when I'm off in some strange town no one will scoff at my contradictions. For some reason, I also spend a lot of time on vacation looking for a great hat, but that's a story for another time.

I find myself poised at another opportunity for change and redefinition: I've been laid off, or layed off, depending on how you look at it. In slightly less than a month, I will be without work, or perhaps on the road to the job of my dreams, at last. I'd settle for the job of my realistic fantasies. 

A fantasy job would be you being overheard while talking to your friends by some high muckety muck at a really cool company and being brought in without an interview to a really cool job with short hours and high pay. As opposed to realistic fantasy job, which involves you finding a nice job after a short search and not too many humiliating interviews working OK hours with a couple of really nice benefits.

So here's to figuring out what I want to be when I grow up, and how I want to look, and what hat I'll wear when I get there.

Triggers!

Last week's triggers are not as easy to figure out as this week's. This week I got 30 day's notice that I'm being let go at work (layed off or laid off? Is one preferable??) Last week, however. Well, the cause wasn't as cut and dried (0r traumatic).

Last week was spring break, and my daughter was off with my husband for 3 days of it. On Friday, finally, after 4 years of procrastinating, I got around to filing our petition for re-adoption for our son. Something about the paperwork and the complex instructions, and the metal detector at the courthouse, and losing yet another keyring Swiss Army knife to security, and having the filing clerk question my documents, something in there made me feel really inadequate or stupid or something else. Then I went and met up with my family at the post office to apply for passports for the kids. Despite having my huge book of paperwork including several copies each of my and my husband's birth certificates and marriage certificate, I did not have a copy of Kyra's birth certificate. I could not convince the passport clerk or her boss that I didn't need this according to the instructions on the internet. Again with the feeling stupid or inadequate or inept, or some other "in-" prefix feeling. Sigh.

So between that and the lay off this week, I've been in an ice cream spiral of despair. Well, maybe I wouldn't go that far. I'm actually OK about losing my job. I've been trying to get up the backbone or something to leave. What I really wanted was to get a fantastic job and leave with no notice. Well, that can't happen now, what with the severance packet I have waiting at the end of the rainbow. 

It doesn't help that I have this cold that makes food taste like paste (so I keep trying to see if it tastes better...)

Well, I know that ice cream won't find me a job, that expanding over my waistline while job hunting will just make me feel more inadequate and useless and unwanted. Still, there is that other half a pint of ice cream... Maybe just one more serving...