As the blood finally starts to flow back to my brain from a lovely three day weekend, I realize that Nationals is just around the corner! Well…sort of…okay, not really. It’s still three weeks away, but it feels much closer than that.
This morning, as I gulped my coffee, I frantically tried to think of what I was going to wear. Really people, this is what I did at five o’clock this morning. I started counting outfits in my brain.
Okay, I have those two blouses, oh and those other two I bought last year for that other conference, but what about pants? Are cargos cool to wear for a conference? They damn well better because I don’t want to sweat. Oh my God, what about my shoes? How am I going to fit all of my shoes in two suitcases? Okay, I just won’t bring the boots (I’d kill myself in them anyway). Oh man…what about my make-up and my Chi? ARGH!
Because now I realize I have to go shopping. I really hate shopping, y’all. It chafes my butt. I hate trying on clothes because I think everything I try on sucks. Now if I’m shopping for someone else, I’m all into it. Me? Everything sucks. I look like a heifer. That makes my butt look big. This makes me look like a ghost. I’m not wearing THAT, it’s hideous!
I find so much to complain about when I’m looking for “dressy” clothes. If it’s jeans and T-shirts, I will grab at will because dude…it’s T-shirts! Those are always in style and comfortable and you can get them in so many sizes!
And jeans? Well…okay, jeans are a little harder for me. I’m 5’4″ which is a respectable height, I guess, but I have a lot of junk in my trunk. Finding clothes that fit the butt don’t fit the waist, or are too long and I don’t sew. But I will wear baggy jeans with no problem. It’s a product of my grunge youth. I actually have a pair of jeans I wear to work that I can put on and take off without unbuttoning and I’m cool with that. I just don’t put anything in my pockets.
But apparently we’re supposed to look profession at the conference. At least that’s what I understand. I wonder if authors of yore had this problem? I would’ve thought being a tortured writer meant you could dress…you know, eccentrically. I can do eccentric! I have some of those very baggy strappy pants teenagers used to wear (before skinny jeans). I can do the…well, okay maybe not. I am 34.
Eh. I’m going to give myself grey hair over this, I just know it. Of course you’ll never see the grey hair because I’m going to color it. So that’s okay. But clothes…meh. I suppose I’ll find something, but if you see me limping around it’s because of the shoes. If you see me pulling at my blouse, it’s because the collar/material/cut of it is killing me. If you see me pouting, it’s probably because my jeans and T-shirts are at home…waiting for me to return.
What do you worry about for conferences? And isn’t it strange that I’m more worried about this than I am about meeting agents and the like?