That’s right, after nearly a decade of lounging in my coop, I have re-entered the workforce.
I must say that my feathers were ruffled at the thought of searching for a job. However, this chick just happened to be in the right place at the right time and landed a gig.
My biggest adjustment to working again has not been the work itself, but the process of getting ready for work. Showers must now be taken daily. Mom jeans have been abandoned for dress pants. Party hair and makeup are now the weekday normal. I feel human again.
I also realize that I’m nearing half a century in age.
It takes a heck of a lot of work to not look like the oldest person in the office, even though my birth date dictates the contrary. I’m now considered that weird old dude.
Instead of shaving my legs for a cute little skirt, I’m shaving my face and examining my brows for those hairs that seem to grow an inch overnight. I never dreamed that growing old gracefully would mean looking like Burel Ives.
I’m trying not to show my age by dropping phrases like “I need to Xerox something,” or by carrying around my giant handwritten Month At A Glance calendar.
It’s surprising, but after merely a few days of work, I feel like my life is more balanced. I’m also wondering what I did with all of my free time. My closets are still a mess, my house is not decorated and my important papers are not organized. Yet, I wasn’t going to leisurely lunches everyday or relaxing at the spa.
For me, it was and is still important for to be at home while our child is still young. It was important just to be manning the coop.
As I was preparing a roast chicken for the evening meal, I could not decide which side was the thigh and which side was the breast. Shouldn’t a seasoned housewife know the difference? Not this chicken.
© 2012 Terri Spilman