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Tuesday, April 4th, 2006 11:56 pm
I've been going on endless interviews, right? Oh yes, yes. I have and I've chronicled my stupid ass journey of professional rejection in here well enough that I should go on fucking Maury Povich and weep about it. But I doubt anyone would actually watch that episode so nix that idea. Recently I came to the warped epiphany that the reason I don't get these jobs which I am usually obnoxiously over educated for is my wardrobe!

Yes, my fucking nerdy boy influenced wardrobe! The fucking clothing that I wear is the reason I can't get my goddamn precious professional job and escape from the drudgery of retail.

IT'S MY CLOTHES FAULT! THEY ARE CONSPIRING AGAINST ME!

Hah. Not really. That's just how I felt at the time. lol.



How good would a horror movie about like... cognizant clothing that was ruining your life and denying you all chance of advancement professionally and it kept you from getting laid but you had no idea because the clothing is controlling your mind and making you think you look good? Bwahaha. I should write a short story about that once I start up my writing classes. Sort of reminds me of the whole alien suit storyline in Spiderman that led to the creation of Venom, one of the coolest bad guys of all time in comics. Hmmm.

Of course, I dress up all shiny and sparkly for interviews but I tend to dress masculine in terms of the pants. I can't say shit about the shirts because I make sure they're tight as to show off the large breasts and I don't think that any shirts that show off large breasts can be masculine in design. And honestly, the one good thing with being a fat girl is having huge boobs. If said boobs aren't sagging and are still firm. Which mine are and thus I rejoice in the large boobage and showing them off.

Anyway! I went clothes shopping today because I have yet another deluge of interviews coming up and this fucking warped idea wouldn't leave my head.

Shopping for clothing when you're fat is fucking depressing. Especially professional clothing meant for a corporate type environment. I always leave my shopping expeditions depressed and carrying like... two fucking items after hours of searching and trying shite on. I would so love to just buy a goddamn wardrobe but I never have luck. I try on these outfits and I end up looking like fucking fat dyke in drag. lol. I mean, it so isn't me and you can tell that. Even if I grow my hair out longer. I guess I shouldn't have chopped it so short. I think the hair also might be an issue. It's not a fucking crewcut but it is shorter than what most women have. Blerh. Michi went on this really sweet rant about it's not right I should have to change my looks to get employment and blah blah fat dyke discrimination blah blah don't call yourself fat dyke blah blah you are being discriminated blah blah muffled sounds of her shutting up because she's being so fucking cute I had to make out with her. lol. But that was basically the interaction there. I guess another good thing about being depressed after going shopping for clothing is it makes me super motivated to keep up my roller skating regimen. Even though it takes forever and a fucking year for me to lose weight.

I guess I get her point about the supposed discrimination but honestly? It's life. You need to look a certain way to get certain things and I don't give a shit about my looks or changing them in order to achieve said goals. The problem is that for some reason that transformation is really difficult for me to make. It's like my goddamn body rebels against looking fucking pretty and professional. Noooo, it shrieks! You're a dyke who wears t-shirts! You cant wear something that looks vaguely frilly at the sleeves of the blouse!

This whole thing is like playing the most fucking difficult and boring version of dress up ever. And while I play dress up all the time in Roller Derby but it's way more fun than this and is superhero nerd influenced in costumery. Okay, I have to take something back. I do care about my looks. I think everyone does, even if they fucking deny it. In fact, the fuckers that deny not caring are the ones who fucking care the most. You don't fool anyone you ass munchers! We know you care and you're not cool. You're super lame for acting one way and secretly being another. But despite being fucking butch and very much automatically drawn to male fashion scheme of things I do get a kick out of being dressed up all pretty. It's just the fucking process of finding the clothing to make me look pretty is this evil epic journey worthy of Lord of the Rings. But stupider and more boring and never able to draw the fascination of a worldwide audience of billions.

I'm still sort of bummed about being a fat dyke who must go through an epic Lord of the Rings shopping quest to find the one outfit for interviews. You know, the one that will most likely yet again not lead to me getting a job. To cheer myself up I decided to listen to some music by the deliciously curvaceous Queen Latifah. Heh. I must really love the Queen because I call myself fat and her curvaceous. Ahhh, the kind words of love.

Simply Beautiful by Queen Latifah:

http://s52.yousendit.com/d.aspx?id=0IHQ5P4TGAYAE0TKUWO5DW6O28
Wednesday, April 5th, 2006 09:46 am (UTC)
I know that clothes matter... and honestly they should matter. You want to maintain a professional attitude when interviewing. This post was about me being fucking fat and it's hard for me to find the clothing that expresses a professional attitude when they're not designed for boys. And I don't think I'm special or really being descriminated against. I was trying to express an attitude of mockery about that but I guess it didn't come across. I don't really think people are conspiring against me or something about these jobs. It just feels that way because I've gone on so many interviews and always end up leaving with a bit of my professional job hopeful soul dead.

If that makes sense. But my god, I don't think I'm special about this. I fucking hate people like that who think the world is against them and so on. I mean, fucking hell! The world doesn't give two shits about me. I know that. Hell, I hardly give two shits about me. Why should the world? lol.
Wednesday, April 5th, 2006 04:03 pm (UTC)
Yes, It makes sense, I got your attitude of mockery and I agree with you.
After my attitude of mockery, about my job, i can only say:
Get dressed for success, a song by Roxette, lyrics don't apply, but the headline is perfect.
I will find it and link it to you later
Wednesday, April 5th, 2006 08:50 pm (UTC)
I know the song... I don't need the lyrics. Thanks though.