David's Bridal: An Invective

Today was a test of my will.

Given that I am a nanny, a story about a determined two year old who kept throwing mashed up carrots on the floor and putting them everywhere but her mouth should follow. But this is no such story.

This is a story about David's Bridal.

I had never been into a David's Bridal until about two years ago. One of my roommates was going to be a bridesmaid, and she invited the house along to her fitting. Cool, I thought, this should be fun. Right? I've never been a frou frou type of girl, but I love colors and fabrics and to a certain degree, glitz.

However, after entering the store, I was immediately overwhelmed. Mirrored walls lined the perimeter and off to the side one sales associate was talking a moderately over-weight lady into a buying a dress that obviously did not flatter her. I mean, I know you want to make a sale, but you're David's Bridal. Your store looks like a machine of dresses, and you're trying to talk her into the drop waist dress when probably an A-line would be so much prettier???

I digress.

Witnessing that exchange churned the contempt I was building for David's Bridal. Next, our roommate discovered that she would be charged an arm and a leg to have her dress altered. Maybe she could have just taken an arm and a leg from someone else and stuffed them into her dress to make it fit.

Upon, finally, leaving (I love decorative mirrors, but when I'm forced to stare at myself because I'm either looking at a white dress the size of Happy Birthday Cake a stripper can jump from or a giant mirrored wall...) I decided to never go back again. Weddings are a once (twice, thrice...) in a life time event, and they should be, to some degree, sacrosanct. Not just something to be mechanized and thrown to industry.

I wish I could say that my dealings with David's Bridal ended with that one godless trip. But as the fates would have it, I ended up back there today.

My brother recently proposed to his girlfriend, and I was asked to be one of the bridesmaids. I was thrilled. I've always wanted to be in a wedding. It may have started when my cousin was engaged and I was going to be her flower girl when I was five. And then the relationship went south and I didn't get to throw flower petals everywhere.

His now fiancee is a very creative girl, and I just assumed that she would be one of those cool brides who gives her bridesmaids a color and says, "Go forth and find an awesome dress that you love." I've known plenty of brides who have done that. They don't see the point in asking their bridesmaids to spend an asinine amount of money on something they'll never wear again, when weddings are expensive enough already.

Yet, about a week ago, I found a message in my facebook inbox directing me to my nearest David's Bridal to get fitted for my bridesmaid dress. Not only would I have to go in David's Bridal again, but I would be forced to spend my money there.

Well, I trudged in to get fitted today. (It doesn't help that it's a two store "strip mall," and the store next door is Trader Joe's. I felt like such a traitor walking into an economical giant, when I could have gone next door to buy locally grown produce.) Different David's Bridal than last time. This one is actually about two states away. Yet the same giant mirrored walls and enough tulle and glitter to keep a panda bear warm in the winter, and fashionable.

I spoke with about three different ladies before following an overly peppy woman to the back of the store to a dressing room, past still more mirrors. The lady told me she would be back to check on me in a few minutes. So, off comes my scarf, my gloves, my coat, my extra sweater (did it really have to be winter?). But I decided to leave on my neon striped knee socks for kicks. I stood in the dressing room waiting on the lady to come back. She eventually did, determined the dress fit me perfectly and said she'd meet me at the front. I went back into the dressing room to have a look at myself, and realized, there were no mirrors inside the dressing room. Are you fucking kidding me?

David's Bridal has enough mirrors to vomit its stomach like a sea anemone and be one of those mirrored sky scrapers, yet there are no mirrors inside their dressing rooms??? No. In other words, please come into the middle of the store to gaze at yourself, so everyone can see how beautiful you are, so we can perpetuate the idealized belief that weddings are just show.

Thank you, David's Bridal. I would really rather you were a sea anemone.

-5 + 5 = 0

Prayer is an interesting thing.

Well, so is religion, actually.

As I've recently told my mother that I have a date set to marry Lina, I would imagine that she (and probably the rest of my family) have been in prayer to stop Satan's destructive hold on my life (actually, I did know that they've been doing that for a while), and most likely to subsequently end the wedding.

It baffles me that a) my family would be praying against me (regardless of their beliefs, couldn't they just pray that I make wise choices?), and b) that I know so many of my friends are praying for our relationship.

Do these prayers just get canceled out as they float toward heaven? I don't believe that God picks "sides," so to speak, but prior to this experience, I've never really thought about what happens when two different people pray for completely conflicting circumstances. Yet, it's happened all through history. (Godwin's law!)

And yes, I was raised in such a conservative/fundamentalist environment that I'm paranoid about a blizzard happening over the date we're supposed to be traveling to the wedding.

LMT to LBD to OT

A simple, but vaguely annoying reoccurring theme in my life is that I constantly change my mind on what I want to pursue, and I have no idea what I want to do.

Since moving after my undergrad degree in May, I've wanted to be a high school English teacher, an MFA student, an ultrasound technician, a family and marriage counselor, a doula, and a massage therapist. I am now currently looking into pediatric occupational therapy. Intersperse in the middle lots of research about those positions and lots of not knowing what I want to do.

However, the one thing that actually thrills me is there is a theme developing. I've long since known that whatever job I end up pursing will be in the field of directly helping people. I just have no idea what form to take that in. But looking through the past occupations that have interested me, they all have some form of therapy involved, and most of them involve families or children.

Unfortunately, my problem is that I get bored fairly quickly. I need a position that has a constantly changing environment, but still with some routine. This is what appeals to me about being an OT. The other day when Lina was watching the twins, two OTs came to their house to assess how the twins were doing and give evaluations and recommendations. That sounds awesome to me.

After looking in becoming an occupational therapist, I realized that I kind of missed the track for schooling. Usually the people who pursue that study science in college, or even pre-occupational therapy, then get master's degrees. However, I could become an OT assistant with a two year associates degree and still make a fairly decent income.

So, that's currently on my brain.

I knew my random interest in anatomy and physiology had to come in handy for something.

Phineas is your Father

Since I am a full fledged nanny now, I need to put my kids names on the side for your easy viewing pleasure, so I'll get to that.

In the mean time, I babysat a 3 year old boy today. We spent the afternoon finger painting, having a sword fight, and shooting nerf guns. It was awesome.

Nannying work is starting to really pick up for me, which is both amazing and a huge relief. I still need a little more work to round out to a better paycheck, but things are looking up. I have a regular sitting position on MWF, I sit occasionally for two to three families right now, and I keep giving out my name and contact info to other parents. So, that's definitely something. And it's a something that's a whole lot less stressful than working in a restaurant.

I mean, my name was Jack Sparrow and I got to charge at a three year old while holding a light saber today (when he was holding the light saber, he was Darth Phineas).

I'll take that.

"I don't." But I will now.

When I was a kid, my biggest dream (fueled by my mother's ambitions for me) was to get married and have children. Somewhere along in college, I realized that I could have my own ambitions, and by golly, I didn't want kids, nor did I want to get married.

Rebellion was a sweet and churning emotion.

And rather confusing.

I'm engaged now, and I absolutely cannot wait to marry to my sweetheart. But, not for the reasons that I thought when I was younger. I honestly didn't have any reasons when I was younger. After a trip to the side of, "Marriage? Why marriage?" I can say that my reasons are totally different now. Getting married is not a status symbol to me. Nor a reason to have sex. Honestly, marriage is becoming pretty useless is my opinion. Aside from tax breaks and benefits from the government and hospital visitation rights (which are now being worked on), marriage is just a symbol.

So, after taking a foray in nomarriageland, I realized that, like most everything else, it all comes down to your motivations. I want to get married now, not because I can flaunt a giant ring on my finger and have "girls' nights out" with other wives (shudder). I want to get married because it's a public proclamation of my devotion to my beloved. And we're going to have a kick ass party with our friends. That seems more like marriage to me.

Not fifteen thousands dollars in debt because we can't afford it. Not a four hundred person wedding because we feel the need to invite everyone we know. Dresses from thift stores and our friends who supported us. That sounds just about right to me.

Would you like your martini, uh, milk, now?

Honestly, I probably should have been documenting my final 2 weeks as a bartender, but I really didn't want to. I didn't want to do anything else that related to that job. So, a bit of a recap:

After I (attempted to) put in my two weeks notice, the assistant manager told me that I needed to have my notice in writing (my bad, because I definitely knew that), and that I couldn't turn in my notice until Tuesday because that's when the payroll week ended/started. I was tempted to call BS, but I just nodded, said that made sense, and left the office. Let me also say that we had this conversation on a Wednesday.

Let me interrupt to say that I am extremely non-confrontational. So much so, it is usually a huge detriment to whatever I'm trying to do (see above). I was already shaking so badly during the conversation, there was nothing I wanted to do more than walk out of the office and sit down for half an hour. Which is why I didn't say anything.

I did, however, tell one of the other bartenders what she said, and he looked at me and was like, really? He proceeded to tell the other bartender who had just quit as well what she told me, and he called and left a voice mail on my phone saying, "She's full of shit and can't do that. If she enforces it, I can give you the number to corporate."

So. I took in my written two weeks notice the following day, with the date of the day before (Wednesday). I copied it and gave it to both her and the general manager. I heard nothing else out of her.

I like to view my form of confrontation as silent.

Some people call it passive-aggressive.

In the end, my two weeks came through from the date I requested. And even better, there was miscommunication of sorts and I ended up only having to work one week after I put in my two weeks, instead of two. I was not about to complain.

Even better news--I was just offered and accepted a job yesterday as a part time nanny for a family just a mile from my apartment. And they seem amazing. And I just got back from another family this morning who wants to use me for occasional sitting. It was only four hours, and I made as much as I would have on a 7.5 hour day shift with bartending, and the worst I had to deal with was some crying when the four year old girl was determined she needed a band-aid on her non-hurting toe.

Heaven.

I probably won't be calling nannying "heaven" much in the future, but wow. Today was so different from a day in the restaurant industry. And I am so grateful.

Two weeks

While it hasn't been two weeks since you looked at me (thank you Bare Naked Ladies), in two weeks it will be my last day at work.

(Holla!)

That is, when I go into work today, I will be putting in my two weeks.

It's me going out on a limb. It's me admitting to myself that I can do better. That I want better. So many people I work with complain at their jobs. "I hate being a server," "I can't wait to put in my two weeks," "I'm looking for another job." But they're still there. And as one conversation with a manager went a few weeks ago, they'll probably still be there in five years.

But, I've never been one to stick around in situations that I didn't like. My practical side is very up in arms at the moment, but I'm deciding to take a risk and put in my two weeks without any other job solidly lined up. I have potentials, but nothing grounded.

So, I take the risk.

The good news is, I have two weeks to nail something down. Give or take. More good news is that Lina is fully supportive of this, and is actually pushing me toward the decision because I "don't want to make my managers upset." We can survive off of her income for a bit if I don't find anything right away, which is also good.

While I am really not looking forward to this conversation with my manager, the dry erase board on the fridge here is really happy and has "two weeks!" in comic-writing form written on today. So, that settles it. I can't dally because it would be an affront to the dry erase board which has our days wonderfully scheduled out.

Two weeks!