On outside meetings...

(This is the entry in which she comments on her feelings about outside-the-office meetings... these days.)

I hate 'em. I know hate is a strong word, but this borders on abhorrence. Seriously. I know it's a phase, and I know where it stems from. I know once I have hair again, once I'm feeling more myself again (which is slowly returning), and once I feel more confident again, outside meetings will return to the status of "meh, whatever." Right now? I detest them.

You see, working for a construction company, even though I'm not exactly turning dirt, I have the luxury of wearing jeans and a baseball cap most of the time. I'm not claiming to look like I could work in the field, and the jeans and lid are typically paired with a nice top and some sandals, but nobody bats an eye with regards to thinking I'm under-dressed. Hell, I'm overdressed in that type of outfit some days.

It's not even so much the outside meetings at the client's office, who are mainly municipalities. Granted, the City project managers are typically dressed nicely, and the design engineers are dressed nicely, but I don't think I've ever been in a project progress meeting without at least two people wearing jeans. So, while I typically dress a bit nicer, I can get away with the usual.

It's the business development meetings I despise. Or the association luncheons. Looking like I feel that I look, and not really wanting to be consumed with having to tell people how I'm feeling, why I don't have hair, no I'm not taking chemo, yes I'm still alive... (I know, I know they only ask because they care... I know) I tend to clam up, turn my eyes downward, and avoid conversation like the plague. Inevitably, it doesn't work. So, I suck it up, smile, and make nice. Nobody is any the wiser. Except me.

Today? The bossman and I have a lunch meeting that was rescheduled from a coffee meeting from last week, to discuss teaming opportunities with another firm on some projects. Not bad, right? Well, we're meeting with the Pretty People. Yargh. I actually like these two women - one better than the other - but they are always, ALWAYS impeccably dressed, hair perfect, and makeup looking like they just stepped away from the Clinique counter. Enter, me.

My dress pants are all too big (no matter how many sandwiches I eat), so I chose the lesser of the evils today - the tan pair. The first belt I had on never lay right in the first place, and really should be thrown out the window. The one I am currently wearing is slightly threadbare by the buckle and really should be worn with jeans. But, god forbid I sit down and my ass hangs out. I think I'll stick with the questionable belt. The top is OK, sort of whatever-ness, and my shoes are fine. I always feel like I have too much makeup on, but if I don't, I feel like I look tired even if I'm not. Then there's the hat. The tan conductor-style hat that matches the pants well enough, but really - I'm sick of them. My nails look fine from a distance, thankfully, and my toes even match, but don't come too close or you might notice the hint of bare nail peeking from the top of the polish. Nearly imperceptible, it is, except to me. Maybe I'll sit on my hands at lunch. Sigh. Anyhow, this meeting too shall pass. (NEWSFLASH 10:42am: The Pretty People cancelled... again! Maybe there is something to this 'luck o' the Irish' or maybe bitching about business development in my blog is similar to wishing upon a star. Either way, lunch is OFF.)

Just in time for a blood draw, in preparation for which I have already started my water consumption. Followed by yet another outside meeting. But this one is at a City. And across from a pub. I just might have to pop in for a Guinness afterwards...

Meanwhile, the bird fuzz hiding beneath the various and sundry hats I sport isn't nearly ready to be shown to the world. Again, sigh. It's getting there... but damn, the process is slow this time around. And every now and then the nagging fear creeps into my mind... what if I have to go on chemo again, and I'll NEVER have hair. I know, I know. Hair, schmair. Life is the important part.
And it is.

The good news? (Because there HAS to be good news, right?) The weather is beautiful, my husband says he thinks I'm cute, and I get to see two of my best friends in three days.

So, on this St. Patrick's Day (on which I am not wearing a speck of green, unfortunately) send a bit of the luck o' the Irish in Spud's general direction. I'm not entirely certain that she's Irish, but I do know that she's having surgery today. So, even though it's simply NOT up for discussion that it will be anything but fine, good vibes never hurt.

Irish proverb of the day: If God sends you down a stony path, may he give you strong shoes.


    On March 17, 2009 at 4:45 PM Anonymous said...

    Traditional Irish Blessing

    May the road rise to meet you
    May the wind be always at your back
    The sun shine warm upon your face
    The rains fall soft upon your fields
    And until we meet again,
    May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.
    Luv ya,
    S McGuire/McBreen H

    On March 18, 2009 at 4:10 AM alyson said...

    ok, so why is it that I read this whole entry as "shopping. We NEED TO GO SHOPPING!!" ....not really, but hey, I am your shopping friend! :) Love you, miss you, hope you had that Guiness

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