"The clothes make the man."
"Dressed for success."
"Dress for the job you want, not for the job you have."
Today, in a fit of delusion almost unprecedented in my grand history of delusion, I realized I've unconsciously been following these rules for years. See, the job I want is to be a writer. So, I wear jeans, comfy shirt, and slippers or flip flops. Not to mention the hairstyles I sport should probably never leave the house. Lord knows my roots should make me eligible for one of those eyesore citations from the neighborhood association.
My power suit is jeans fresh from the dryer and a shirt that makes me sigh with happiness (could be extra soft, extra flattering, or just the right shirt for the moment.) And on those days that I really need something to keep me going, there's nothing like new socks and The Underpants of Confidence. A good friend of mine said that good underwear is like wearing a superhero costume under your clothes. You feel like you have a grand secret that the world would clamor to know if only the had a hint....
I've digressed (as I so often do) into underwear again. I had a point, and it was this:
All this time I thought I was a slob, but I was actually visualizing success!
**This post brought to you by Delusion. Delusion, when reality is just not working.
Writers: What's your uniform of choice?