Acceptance once step at a time

Almost to the day, my career in marketing research lasted 12 years. It was supposed to last a lot longer. But I coughed while reaching for a Kleenex and two spinal fusions later, my career…and really any future in the working world…unceremoniously ended at the ripe old age of 34.

I have been officially retired for 16 years. The first 7 or 8 years were a bit bumpy, as my premature exit from the working world was forced on me without my permission. It took quite awhile to reconcile my dreams with my new reality. And to find a purpose that no longer relied on a job title or paycheck. Moving out of the intensely career-focused Bay Area where I no longer fit helped a ton. But acceptance has still been a long, slow, non-linear path.

About a decade ago, I finally realized my fiberglass clamshell back brace could retire, too. And with it, the extraordinarily large, elastic-waisted pants and oversized t-shirts I had been aimlessly wearing.

Without a job or a reason to show up anywhere properly attired, I had gotten lost in the comfort of enormous, shapeless clothes. They were never intended to stay in my closet more than a surgery recovery or two; nevertheless, they became unfashionable, everyday staples.

With some direction, encouragement, and ruthlessness, I finally totally revamped my wardrobe. I bought clothes with color and shape and style that actually fit my body. After a long hiatus, I gratefully felt pulled-together and eager to show up someplace…any place…wearing real clothes.

But I wasn’t quite ready to part with the business suits that had defined my once corporate career. They stayed smushed in the back of the closet, out of sight but not out of mind. Like the jeans from two sizes ago that you aspire to wear again someday, the pantsuits and blouses were tucked away with unspoken hope to revisit a time past.

A couple years later, thanks to an unexpectantly defiant conversation with a Large Government Agency, I had a renewed acceptance of my “never working again” status. I found a charity that provides career clothes for struggling women.

I handed over almost all my corporate gear with hope that it would serve the next owners successfully. I sent a special blessing along with my Super Woman Suit – the fabulous black pant suit that had instantly made me feel strong, confident, powerful, and that I had earned my right to be at the corporate table despite being in my 20s.

Relinquishing that suit was an enormous step in acknowledging my Big Time Career Days were over.

But I kept The Shoes.

Being a frequent shopper at Payless Shoe Source – including the AAA discount – it was a scary step into adulthood when I bought the strappy black pumps at Nordstrom to accompany my new suit. At $69.95 and 24 years old, I had never spent so much on shoes before ($125 in today’s dollars. Thanks Google!). Handing over my credit card, I tried not to calculate how many utility bills I was spending to put fancy pumps on my feet. But the shoes, they were perfect.

It’s hard to imagine how many miles I put on those leather soles. Airports, conference rooms, hotel lobbies, working breakfasts and power lunches. I wore them so much, the inserts got totally thrashed. But the shoes themselves help up beautifully. They molded to my feet like slippers while remaining professional and well-kept. Undeniably a wise purchase by a young woman not yet old enough to rent a car.

I have allowed my hair to revel in its natural state for over a year now. Along the way I have had to adjust lipstick, eye brows, glasses, and clothing to better suit my now silver head. Color can be so tricky…and daunting. It’s been an uneven process, sometimes faced with enthusiastic gusto, other times with slow reticence. The last big step was another revamp of my closet.

I have spent the last week trying to be brutally honest with myself. I have examined each item in my closet with as much objectivity as a middle-aged woman with hips and perimenopausal bulges can muster.

I have tried to ignore the stories behind the dress I wore on my 40th birthday that no longer works with my hair color. And the blouse that I loved to threadbare and appears in so many photos. And the pants I hastily bought when my grandma was dying and I had run out of clean clothes. I have struggled to view each piece as utilitarian, evaluating if it fulfills its purpose NOW to make me feel fashionable and pulled together instead of what it accomplished years ago.

And so today, The Shoes are finally leaving.

I put them on one last time. They feel great…as long as I have nylons on to cushion the torn inserts. They look fantastic despite being 25 years old. They might even still be stylish, if I were trying to look businessy.

But the truth is, my business days are long over. These days I dress up for charity events and milestone birthday parties and funerals and fancy nights out in Portland or on cruise ships. These days, I have shoes that fit my retired, 50-year-old, back-knee-and-plantar-fasciitis-pained, rocking-the-silver-hair self. I have shoes that are a little more edgy and fun and a little less corporate and safe. I have shoes that give me a sense of place in the moment instead of memories of a lifetime ago.

Sixteen years and two closet overhauls later, one lone steel gray blazer from my career days remains in my closet. I pulled it to the front two days ago when I realized it still fits and looks even better now with my silver hair than it did with Garnier Truffle brown.

I have some fantastic suede booties that I got last year that will look amazing with it in the fall.

Good-bye old friends.  You served me well.