The last time I went to a "work function" was about two years ago. It was the kind of thing people in Washington go to all the time -- some political panelists, lots of issues everyone knows about mixed in with open bar cocktails. I wore what I imagined professionals who report to a place that is not their couch are supposed to; a pencil skirt and what my mother calls "a nice top."
"Look at you! Looking like you actually have a job," teased a friend. Yes, my friends are assholes, but she did have a point. Usually, I show up at happy hour, a time warp that apparently belongs to the working, in my uniform -- whatever's not dirty with a blazer.
But all that has to change today, folks, because your girl got invited to the WHITE HOUSE.
Basically what's going to happen is, Michelle Obama will be dusting a life-size portrait of Martha Washington and upon seeing me roaming the hallowed halls of our great nation's royal palace Mrs. Obama will be so taken by my casual yet extremely professional ensemble that she invites me upstairs to read Malia and Sasha a bedtime story. Then we'll braid each other's hair.
For this to happen I need your help! I'm currently dressed in my laptop jockey jammy jams but in just a few short hours and with you all's fairy dust called comments this Cinderella will be transformed into a career girl. Here are my options:
Let me know what screams "Adopt me, Obamas!" and I'll wear it this afternoon as I listen intently to a Q and A on poverty while searching the wings for any sign of the first lady, who is just dying inside to be besties with me.