I am minorly obsessed with the Kennedys

I am a sales rep in the world of media.  

There are a million of me.   

We go out in to the world, bustling down Michigan Avenue in our clicky heels, FUN work clothes and see ad agencies and show them our magazine's new font, or our amazing new online content, or our amazing mobile technology, or our amazing new video technology, or our best-in-class social platform, or our first-to-market amazing data, or our blah blah blergh blergh acronym blah blah.  

And then we let the client talk.

Many of me drive fancy cars, regularly get blow outs and put big ribbon bows in their daughter’s hair, so they look like Caroline Kennedy, wintering in Palm Beach.

Some of the me's dress the girl children in Lilly Pulitzer and the boy children in polo shirts like little tiny pro-golfers.  And then they monogram those outfits so no one gets confused on who is who.

Some of us have furs.  

Some of us are not like the others.  We belly laugh, and eat food with meat for lunch. We wear clothes from the Gap, or Target.

All of us are here for the same reason---to make $, to have some flexibility, because we can present, and keep excel charts nice and tidy.  

And,  as a plus, it's actually a really interesting industry.  

So, I wake up late, shower and get dressed, put on my business lady costume, pack up my TJ Maxx bag with magazines, my laptop/ipad/iphone and take a walk to a business lady meeting!  

I see people I know on the street, say hi, grab a coffee and it's like I'm god-damn Mary Tyler Moore!  

Once, I was out for a business lady lunch with 5 really fun gals.   These are my colleagues, not my clients.

Two of them were skinny minnys—but they kept talking about how fat they felt, how fat they were, how they had gone from a size 4 to a size 6 fat fat FAT!

The other 3 of us were what I would describe as “normal”---and I was just staring in disbelief.  You know how we aren’t supposed to judge, blah blah blah?  I judge.  I do. 

I felt like a pig invited to a light lunch at their favorite meadow with a bunch of tiny little lady deer.  They feasted on locally sourced grass and had really nice fur while I rooted around for food scraps and the deer discussed which meadow is best to raise their yearlings in.

"Oh, I am looking at Western Meadows!,

"But the schools aren't as good as Hooves dale.  We are staying in the urban meadow, but sending our fawns to Roman Deer Parish school".

I can't tell what to talk about---the cta?  Shopping?  TV shows?  Is it because I'm single?  No kids?  Am I jealous?  

No, not exactly.  But I don't fit in.  I know about deers, and deer development and enjoy hearing about the latest fawn antics---but our lives are just so different.

I wear my hair naturally curly and some of them blow dry their hair every morning.  I think they shop a lot but then complain about not being able to afford to stay-at-home with their kids.  

I like to shock them every once in a while when they talk about their bikini waxes before giving birth and I tell them "Mine is like the 70s down there".

I am not like the others.   So I quit.

(ps the hair bows are really cute.  But sometimes, they just seem really really big.  And I really worry when they put them on newborns that the garters will stop the baby's skull development. But it's important that we know this baby is a girl.)