Help Me Help Myself
Somehow, I thought I could get away with wearing a black belt and black shoes with brown pants today. As soon as I walked out of the house, however, I realized that I look like a very sombre colour-blind clown. And, of course, I was late, so I didn't have time to correct the problem. (I did briefly consider grabbing a pair of brown shoes, but that would mean a shoe/belt discordance, the shame of which I could only escape by committing ritual suicide.)
I've asked several people around the office to tell me that this looks terrible. That's exactly how I phrased it, too: "Please tell me this looks terrible." And yet, they're all too nice to be harsh with me. Instead, I'm getting a lot of, "No, it looks fine [wince, followed by stiff smile]," and "I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't said anything." (The latter response was given by a woman who couldn't stop staring at my belt during our preceding conversation. Either my underpants are doing more push-up work than normal, or she's a liar-pants.)
If someone would just have the guts to say, "That isn't working. Good try, but... No," then I would think of them every time I even thought about this combination in the future, and I would have a definite reference point to stop myself from experimenting wildly.
It's like the time I wore a long-sleeved t-shirt under a short-sleeved dress shirt. Within moments of arriving at work, I knew what a grave miscalculation I had made, but no one said anything all day. Finally, I cornered one of the girls, and said, "This seemed like such a good outfit in my head, but [gestures to self] something obviously went wrong."
"Yeah. What's going on there? I didn't want to say anything, but that's not okay." Then we laughed like idiots.
And now, every time I think that maybe I just chose the wrong t-shirt under the wrong dress shirt, I remember this moment, and I step away from the closet.
I've asked several people around the office to tell me that this looks terrible. That's exactly how I phrased it, too: "Please tell me this looks terrible." And yet, they're all too nice to be harsh with me. Instead, I'm getting a lot of, "No, it looks fine [wince, followed by stiff smile]," and "I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't said anything." (The latter response was given by a woman who couldn't stop staring at my belt during our preceding conversation. Either my underpants are doing more push-up work than normal, or she's a liar-pants.)
If someone would just have the guts to say, "That isn't working. Good try, but... No," then I would think of them every time I even thought about this combination in the future, and I would have a definite reference point to stop myself from experimenting wildly.
It's like the time I wore a long-sleeved t-shirt under a short-sleeved dress shirt. Within moments of arriving at work, I knew what a grave miscalculation I had made, but no one said anything all day. Finally, I cornered one of the girls, and said, "This seemed like such a good outfit in my head, but [gestures to self] something obviously went wrong."
"Yeah. What's going on there? I didn't want to say anything, but that's not okay." Then we laughed like idiots.
And now, every time I think that maybe I just chose the wrong t-shirt under the wrong dress shirt, I remember this moment, and I step away from the closet.