I love glass doors, and not for the reasons that you might assume, for instance, being able to see what’s on the other side. Oh no, I like to use to reflection to see what’s going on behind me, or more accurately, what I have left in my wake.
Recently I bought a Jigsaw skirt from a charity shop for £5. It fits like the proverbial glove, and I am very aware that it hugs my derrière the way a koala hugs a eucalyptus. Instinctively, and without apology. Despite it’s overtly sexy fit, the colour leaves a little to be desired. Chris De Burgh did not sing of “The Lady in Dark Olive Green” for a reason. After a recent clear out of my underwear draw, I came across several pairs of seamed tights, and this morning I swiftly concluded that these would be the perfect antidote to my olive green conundrum. Nothing sexes up a skirt like seamed hosiery. A simple black top and delicate pencil heel court shoes were all that was required to accompany my outfit. Without these little touches it would have been less green goddess and more dowdy deity. I could have attempted to add colour, but instead I admitted defeat and decided to go for ‘sultry’ in black.
I’m just going to prise myself away from these flattering, yet blurry (possibly a direct correlation), pictures of my behind and go back to the tale of the glass door. After printing off a few valve data sheets, random emails and other day job associated bumff, I sauntered through to the printer, passing through a glass door on my way. Several male colleagues are in my path and I could see from the reflection that they had watched me pass… They were still watching me… Yep, still watching… Sadly then I had to open the door and their faint reflection swung out of view. Chuckling to myself I continued on my way. I considered this a source of amusement and flattery.
While I dress mainly for myself, for me there is no bigger compliment than the attention of a man. ES agrees, and far from being protective or jealous, he’s always ‘dead proud’ when he catches a guy checking me out. I struggle to understand why some women are offended by male attention in the work place, but perhaps I come from a time where I take it for granted that my opinion will be heard, and I’m not merely employed as ‘decoration’. I also heed self serving theories such as, if I take pride in my appearance, then I will appear to take pride in my work. “How true!” I declare with gusto, and then get back to the main task in hand, which is vanity. Essentially, for me, that’s what it boils down to. While I agree that acute vanity and narcissism are unattractive traits, in my opinion, a little vanity never hurt anyone. In fact it has helped me enormously to become happy with my appearance. After all, that’s what people see!