Am I hot? Or did I get creeped??

I went to a hoity-toity business mixer this week. Translation: a networking party.  I walked in the door and saw a sea of black.  Everyone was wearing black from head to toe, and it caught me off guard.  It was at our local Co-op Gas Bar Headquarters, so I thought the dress would be casual.  Apparently not.

Then there was me.  All six feet of me decked out in a long teal skirt, creamy white top and maroon colored sweater.  Purple highlights in my hair.  Oh, let’s not forget the handmade moccasins on my feet.  Very country bumpkin.

Due to a light brown, long haired dog named Sam, the only black garment I own is a pair of panties.  Imagine me striding in co-op adorned only in a pair of black granny panties.  Saggy boobs, stretch marks from top to bottom, skinny legs and a midsection I’m not comfortable with.  Quite an entrance!

Is black the color to hide behind?  Does it signify that you are rich and your business is happening?  Does it mean that you are miserable and need to fit in with the other drones?  Always searching after the next dollar?  Is it any coincidence that the business I am associated with doesn’t make a profit and hardly pulls in any cash?  Would that change if I started to wear black?

I can’t see myself running an agri-tourism business in my black panties or in a black pant suit.  It’s not to practical.  Between the sunburn, mosquito bites, or incessant sweating and dry cleaning bills, I wouldn’t be up to being the boss lady.

I’ll stick with my comfy homemade skirts and colorful tank tops.  That way if a sheep takes a crap on me, I take a header into the mud, or get blood on me while tending to child who cut his finger on a corn stalk, I can throw the clothes into the washer and be done with it.

What did I learn from this event?

I haven’t made a lot of head ways in healing my anger towards rich folk who keep all their money to build a bigger house, buy another car, a boat, go south for the winter…..

Rank amateurs need not attend.  No one said hi to me, even though I attempted to make eye contact and be open to whatever would happen.  I was so out of place and out of my comfort zone.

I am smoking hot.  I noticed the photographer take several pictures of me.  (Either I’m hot or he was creeping me.) ; )










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