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To say that it’s already been a day would be rather an understatement. Rather I tell you. Rather. But black jeans will save us all.

Since I work in an environment that is allegedly “professional” I frequently have to dress like a “professional” even though I still consider myself a small child. On days that don’t involve meetings with people outside the department or scheduled training sessions I can dress more casual, like jeans and a nice shirt. When we finally get to enjoy summer weather – all 3 days of it – I have some appropriate length dress shorts that I can wear. It ain’t all that bad.

But I have a limited collection of dressy pants, mostly because I don’t like dressy pants, and it’s just too fucking cold today for a skirt. So, black jeans – which look a helluva lot like black dressy pants – are totes acceptable. And way more comfy. So, YAY!

Isn’t it funny though how, even when we don’t intend to, we judge people by the way they look? I try to be a really open-minded and tolerant soul, but I still make assumptions in my head about what people might be like or do for an occupation based on what they look like. I don’t let those initial “silent” assumptions color my treatment of them, at least until they prove that I’m right or wrong. I can’t always spot the assholes right away, but it doesn’t usually take me too long.

And thinking about that got me thinking about what people think when they look at me. I can tell you that when I’m talking to people here on campus and I get to the point of feel comfortable disclosing my Dx to them that everyone seems utterly gobsmacked. (isn’t that a great word?) But I don’t know if that’s because of my outward appearance or how I act or what.

And really, who the fuck cares. I’m me. Ya don’t like me? Too fucking bad, it’s your loss.

not a single fuck kitty

On a final note, if anyone feels the need to follow my daily antics that don’t end up here, feel free to follow me on the Facebooks. You can look me up using mentalinthemidwest @ gmail . com