I got a new job. Did I mention that?
I won't tell you where it is, but I will tell you that I am now employed by our nation's largest employer and I have to drive into La Belle Province every day. Is that enough information for you? If not and you still need help, I can't help you there, dummy.
The best part about the new job isn't the increase in pay, the full benefits or getting to sit my butt down in the World's Most Comfortable Chair all day - it's getting to wear my own clothes. My old job had me wear a uniform and as sexy as it was, it's nice to be able to fancy it up a bit. I clean up pretty well. I even coloured my hair all dark to mark this milestone!
The other best part. Shoes. I love shoes. I could buy seventeen new pairs in fifteen minutes if you let me. (Which is the opposite of when I am trying on pants. It will take me four hours to pick out one pair!) And I have bought a bunch of new pairs of shoes. High heels, flats, wedges, sandals, pumps! Black, white, grey patent leather and even, yes, red.
The downside to this other best part? My feet. My feet are killing me! Between breaking in new pumps, stretching out new flats with my big clown feet and playing soccer against women determined to take out my toes, my poor feet are tired - and godawful ugly!
My girl Truvy said it best in 1989: "In a good shoe, I wear a size six, but a seven feels so good, I buy a size eight."
I need to heed her advice!