Posts Tagged ‘trade show’

Getting by on My Looks…Not 12-12-11

I, as leader of the fat and sloppy nation, maintain a certain look.  In my own way, I’m a fashionista.  My daily wardrobe is cargo pants or cargo shorts and a t-shirt with a pocket.  If people really look around and notice, there are many men who dress like me.  One might think that they have given up on themselves.  I haven’t; and even though my wife often complains about my look, I’m never embarrassed no matter who sees me.

I wear this t-shirt/cargo pants ensemble year round weather it is 40 degrees or 110 degrees.  Sometimes I sleep in my t-shirt and go to work in it.  It’s like going to work in my pajamas.  I don’t buy my t-shirts, they are given to me.  I get my t-shirts from trade shows or from my paint suppliers.  I’m a human accretion disk for t-shirts.  I’ve owned thousands during my adulthood.  It makes me happy when someone asks me for a t-shirt.  I have so many new ones that I can be a t-shirt big shot and give mine away.

I’m too busy and disorganized for daily shaving.  Five days can come and go without my shaving.  When I finally notice myself, I shave.  I go to work like this, every day.  I think some executives might be jealous of me.

Anything more than a daily shower and putting on clean clothes I consider grooming.  Real grooming is what I did in my 20’s and 30’s when I was looking to find a date.  I don’t do that anymore, I’m married.

My t-shirts also do duty as a napkin or towel.  Most days I end up wearing a t-shirt/napkin combination.  Since t-shirts are easy to come by, why not clean my mouth on them.  I’m clever enough to know people will assume my food smears are paint spatters.

Even though how I look doesn’t bother me, I often wonder how I look to strangers.  Do I look like an unshaven house painter who has food smears on his untucked t-shirt?  I wear my t-shirt untucked because I can’t button my pants.  I’m too fat.  I drape my t-shirt over my opened button and zipper so I don’t have to wear a belt.

I’ve had the same dozen pairs of pants for about 10 years now.  I know them and they know me.  We have a great relationship; I’ve gotten fatter and my pants remain the same.  They never complain or make fun of me.  My wife loves to offer to buy me new paints with a 38″ waist.   Fifteen years ago, I had a 30″ waist.  My wife gets a zing of extra joy in her day when she can allude to my need for larger pants in “innocent” conversation.