|SERIOUSLY, WHAT KIND OF PERSON|
doesn't notice when a woman walks into a room
wearing these? A man person, that's what kind.
It's bloody fantastic, is what it is.
And because anyone who knows me a lot or even a little knows I am anything but a whiner ... OWWW! I just injured my hangnail typing that last sentence! ... you may be surprised to hear that I actually do have one tiny little gripe about this new situation: I work with men. Nothing but men. Surrounded by men. For the first time in my life, I'm the only woman in a virtual sea (if seas were made of office cubicles) of men.
And that is fine, except for one thing: men don't GET IT.
They don't talk about deals on groceries, they don't whisper, "Is she pregnant or is she just getting fat?" And perhaps most jarring of all, they don't give a rat's ass about clothes. Yesterday I wore the second-hottest pair of shoes I own and not one co-worker even noticed.
If I had walked into my old job wearing those shoes, every woman in the room would have leapt from their seat and squealed, "Ohmigod your shooooes!" My male co-workers? I could have been wearing Crocs for all they cared. The whole day was a waste of pink feathers.
On the strength of that incident alone, I may very well have to hand in my resignation.