To the Pale...

Marcie and I had a conversation a while back about summer, bathing suits and trouble spots...the usual hips, thighs, waist things. I jokingly commented that my body WAS the trouble spot - I do not turn any color but pink from May to August...and from my knees down, not even that! Sprays and creams turn orange on me, and well, they just look wierd...so I told her I had doubled my coffee intake in the hopes of absorbing pigment internally - like tea stains...I can DREAM can't I?

So this morning, in the shower, I decided it was time to shave my legs. Something I avoid in the winter - my excuse being that it adds a layer of warmth...really I am just lazy. Shaving is mandatory in the summer months, but at least with a winter fuzz on, from a distance, my legs don't blind people. Shorts are something that I have to work myself up to and it usually takes until July. I try them on for fit...then maybe I wear them around the house - just to let my eyes adjust to my glaring gams. I try on white shorts (hoping something paler than me will help), dark denim (thinking, why try to hide it?), and finally a khaki compromise...this process will go on for weeks...shaving, trying on, walking around the house with an ocassional venture to the mailbox and then finally retreating into my Old Navy jeans. The only thing that eventually coaxes me into shorts or a bathing suit is pure heat delerium. Have no fear, I pass out complimentary sunglasses when I go to the pool =)

Speaking of sunglasses, I wasn't always this self-conscious. I was raised to be proud of my Irish roots...and I am - on cloudy rainy days...but everyhting changed 7 years ago, one innocent day at work. I was a rep with a brokerage firm downtown. It was a relatively laid back office and we had summer hours and casual Fridays. The A/C broke conveniently on a Thursday, so we all decided since Fridays we closed at one, and there were no clients coming in, we would brave the heat, wrap-up the week and come in very casual: a la shorts (khaki bermudas of course...it is Wall Street!) The next morning, I came in, settled into my morning routine, called some clients and wrote up some trade tickets. My traders were in the bullpen, in a separate office. To "drop the tickets" or place my trades, I had to walk through the operations area of my firm. As I left my office, tickets in hand and walked in the Ops/Trading room, I said my "good Mornings" with my head buried in a newspaper. Halfway through the room I became conscious of snickering. I looked around, and every person in the room, cashiers, wire operators, security traders and analysts...all had put on their SUNGLASSES! We exploded in laughter, I placed my trades, returned to my office and stayed there! Now, we were all friends, and the prank was good-natured...but it definitely left a mark!

Here's to all the jean-wearin' chalk people everywhere!