Being a nurse for over twenty years has been great for paying the bills, but it's not something that I see myself doing for the rest of my life. I've just reached a point in my life where it's time for something new. However, with one child in college and another starting a year from now, I can't quit my day job just yet.
So for about a year now, I have been contemplating getting a side job; something different, where I don't have to be in charge or work with people. No more customer service stuff. My deep desire is to work with animals; I've always liked being with animals better than people. I think because animals don't expect anything from you except love and they appreciate your help. Plus they're not complicated. People are complicated.
So by now, you'd think I'd be working at a vet's office or kennel or be a pet nanny or something. That's what I thought I'd be doing. Nope, far from it. Very far, in fact. For about three months now, I've been working part time at a bridal shop in town. I know exactly what you're thinking...it's what I'm thinking each time I show up to work; what am I doing? Or maybe the better question is what is God doing?
You see, I'm about as dainty as a bull in a china shop. Growing up, while all the other girls were fussing with their hair and their outfits, I was outside with the boys; playing tackle football, baseball, riding bikes and getting dirty and grimy. There was only one court this princess ruled and that was the basketball court. My regal attire consisted of sweats, tee shirts and high-tops. The last time I used a brush was in the 70's. My poor mother. A New York socialite and fashionista herself, she tried with me, honestly. But just like she tried to teach me how to sew and to play a more refined sport like tennis (she was a pro), I would have nothing to do with any of it. I did wear a bridesmaid's dress for my sister's wedding( I was 12), but I had on brand new Nike running shoes under it.
My first three school pictures consisted of me in some kind of turtleneck with messy hair. More like unkempt hair. I don't know why the photographer didn't say "hey, little girl, do you want to comb your hair before I take the picture?" (I could hear myself saying "what's a comb?"). Nonetheless, I was smiling in the pictures, so I must have been happy...being grubby. I seriously have no recollection of ever getting my haircut as a child.
Flash forward to the present. I have two beautiful daughters; emphasis on beautiful, inside and out. They are both teenagers now, and I have spent almost twenty years keeping them dressed in the current trends, all the while wearing "the same old same old." I've had the same jeans for 15 years, but yet the girls get new jeans every six months or so. It finally hit me that I needed to start taking care of myself...you know, it's time that mama got herself some. "Some" being some help in finding the land of femininity again. So I boldly broke a cardinal rule and asked God to help me become "pretty" again. One of the cardinal rules of Christianity is that you never pray for patience, humility or any virtue that sounds honorable; God will honor your prayer, but you'll have to work for it through what is called a "trial." I'm not big into "no pain, no gain."
Anyway, my oldest daughter has worked in this little gem of a shop for over two years now, but she has been away at college since last August. I mentioned a while ago to the owners that if they ever needed any help, I'd be willing to work for them. I wouldn't mind vacuuming, steaming dresses, running errands. I would work behind the scenes, in the background, not having to deal with the public or people; no customer service. However, my sloppy appearance gave the impression that I was anything but professional. My hair was messy (shocker there), I had no make up on, and I looked like a slob. So with that being said, I never thought that they would even consider hiring me.
Remember my prayer? Well, God in his warped sense of humor, inspired the owners to offer me a job. I have no experience in the bridal world, no idea how to dress professionally, no expertise in dealing with women who need help choosing gowns for their special occasions. I really only know how to match my scrub top to my pants and then match them to my Crocs. I'm really stylish that way. But not in the fairy tale princess bride way.
Plus, I found myself in the exact situation that I did NOT want to be in...customer service. However, I find myself kind of liking it. The biggest stressor has not been dealing with "bridezillas" or mother of the brides, but rather dressing myself. You know you're in trouble when your sixteen year old has to pick out your outfit. Clothes are scattered here and there in the closet like a grenade went off when I leave, and I'm running into work, like a bat out of hell, all because I can't put an outfit together for myself.
I'm not ready to call myself an epic fail yet, but I am contemplating pathetic. I'm learning about myself though, and I'm ok with falling down from time to time. I'm used to failure, getting back up, and trying again... and again. And again. It's a process for which I'm willing to go easy on myself. To quote from the song "The Climb", by Miley Cyrus: "it's all about the climb." So, come on, get your rappelling gear and "climb" with me; it'll be an adventure...trust me.
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