In which your Bakerina continues to display the skills that made her the high-powered desk monkey she is today...
1. Wake up. This means you, slug-a-bed.
2. Commence daily bleary-eyed stare at closet to determine what to wear. Remember, happily, that tonight your office is throwing a do for the sweet young woman who is leaving for greener pastures. You are going to a nice restaurant in a neighborhood you like. There will be drinks. There will be dinner. It will be a happy good fun time. Woo-hoo!
3. Pick out your happy good fun time outfit, in the form of black capri pants and black lace shirt you bought on last year's Labor Day weekend trip to Colorado, the form-fitting (but not inappropriately for the office), short-sleeved, va-va-voom shirt, one of the few pieces of va-va-voom clothing in your largely practical, functional and black wardrobe. Take your outfit, along with appropriate underthings, and head for the shower.
4. Shower, shower, shower. Exit tub and dry off. Consider the small stash of interesting potions with which to rub your newly clean self. Alight on your new dusting powder. Open the tin and sniff gently. Oh, mercy, that smells wonderful. Yes, this is what you want. Remember, vaguely, the tutorial that the nice young woman at the shop gave you on this powder, namely that it should be applied to skin that is still a bit damp, not entirely dry. Since all your life you have been incapable of completely drying yourself off after a shower or bath, this is the powder for you.
5. Dust yourself with powder and rub it in your skin until you can't see it anymore. Oh, that's luscious. Oh, you are hot stuff this morning. As you apply powder, sing provocative show tunes like "Hey, Look Me Over," "Gorgeous" and "Do You Want to Have Fun" in a breathy voice. Wash your hands and put your clothes on. Oh, that's the stuff. You smell like a vanilla marshmallow, you look curvy and stylish thanks to your ensemble. Even your tummy looks good; pudgy, yes, but in a sweet sort of way.
6. As you wash your face, realize that you missed powdering your left forearm. Sprinkle on a little more powder. Only...whoops, your arm was completely dry and the powder is sitting on the surface of your skin, as Nice Young Woman said it would. Run your hands under the tap, dab the powder into your skin. All done. Pretty as a picture.
7. Continue with your morning rituals. Wash your face, brush your teeth, watch the news with your spouse, drink your coffee, get your bag and reading material, head to the subway.
8. As you walk down the street, you notice that as your skin continues to dry, some of the powder is still a bit noticeable. Pay little attention to it. Enter the subway, get on the train, open your new copy of Keep the Aspidistra Flying by George Orwell (actually your husband's new copy, but he was nice enough to loan it to you) and bury your head in it.
9. Notice that a nice young man in a sharp silk pinstripe suit is sitting next to you. Your arm and his arm are grazing each other. Continue reading your book and feeling like an overheated little tart.
10. There's your stop! Get off the train. As you stand back to let Nice Young Man pass in front of you, realize with horror that you have left a stripe of powder on his sleeve. Wonder if you should cue him in as a swarm of commuters desperate for your newly-vacated seat descend upon you. It's too late. Holy cow, how much powder did you put on?
11. Emerge onto the street and look at the powdery streaks upon your arms and neck with dismay. Oh, dear. Vow to scrub your arms as soon as you get into the office.
12. Get to the office. Run wet paper towels over your arms and neck. There you go. All cleaned up, and you still smell pretty. Now get to work, you.
13. Work, work, work, converse, converse, converse, work, work, work.
14. Go to the watercooler for a cup of water. Catch your reflection in the Mylar-lined window in the cafeteria. Notice that there are little streaks of powder on your pants. Discover instantly that your pants are the least of your problems. Your general breastal area is completely grey. You look like you've been felt up by a ghost. What the hell did you do to yourself? All you did was type all morning -- and the realization comes crashing down on you like the 16-ton weights from Monty Python's Flying Circus. You powdered the inside of your arms too, you silly bint. Forearms, elbows, biceps -- they all got powdered, and now every time you type, every time you reach sideways for the phone, every time you reach forward to adjust your computer monitor, every time you blow your nose, you are redusting yourself in a way that is absolutely not conducive to professional office conduct.
15. Race to the ladies' room. Grab more wet towels and get to work. Wish that you had a brush. As you try to get this stuff off of you, you see this outfit with new eyes, and the euphoria of the morning evaporates. You look at the shirt and the phrase "mutton dressed as lamb" springs to mind. That pudgy-in-a-sweet-way tummy now reveals itself as the crime against humanity that it is. You wonder if you've already been caught on camera by some local news station doing another story on the obesity epidemic, and if footage of your headless body, walking down Lexington Avenue, is destined to show up on the news at 6 o'clock tonight. You hear Michael Stipe -- the young, gorgeous Michael Stipe, not the old, gaunt Michael Stipe -- singing "It's all wrong, it's all wrong" in your head.
16. As you clean off the last trace of powder from your rump, consider that maybe you should stick to body cream in the morning, and powder before you go to bed. Return to your desk, feeling consoled only by the notion that you still smell really good.
17. Say hello to a big from one of the other divisions. "Don't you look nice! Special occasion?" she says. Feel relieved and happy, until she frowns in a worried way and says, "Oh, what happened to your legs?" Look down and see white streaks all over your exposed shins and calves, the streaks you somehow missed after 20 minutes in the bathroom.
18. Wonder how you managed to live as long as you have without being able to bathe and dress yourself like a normal human being. Think about "Put on a Happy Face," your favorite episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show, in which Mary Richards has a bad, bad day. Feel a little better. Only a little.