Warning: I'm breaking the dream rule again...

For anyone who hates to hear about other people's dreams, now is your chance to bail.

Last night I had one of those waitress dreams/nightmares. John Baptiste was sitting at the counter waiting for coffee but I couldn't find any cream that was good so I had to go down to the basement to find some. It took me forever to find it, all the while I was painfully aware that his coffee was getting cold. As I was heading upstairs I discovered that we made donuts at the restaurant and I could pick one to eat. IT WAS SUCH A DIFFICULT CHOICE. I had an apron full of creamers and I had just picked the wrong donut. What a waste. I was definitely going to have to have another one.

Who is John Baptiste, you ask? Someone from the far far left field of my brain where, apparently, people from my high school live. I think he's someone who went to my high school but it is quite possible I made him up. When I googled him, "John the Baptist" came up so it might have been him.
This is all I need, baked goods and my past oozing out of my psyche and converging in my dreams. Throw in a spider and we have ourselves a total party.

Fuck, I want a donut right now.

I'm not uniform

In general, I am anti-uniform. I truly believe that uniforms stamp out individuality and that is a crime. Expressing yourself through your clothing is pretty much what I am all about. I think being dressed like everyone else makes you feel helpless and defeated.
Ok, I'm not going to lie, the real reason I hate uniforms is because uniforms hate me.
They started it.

I personally do not have a figure for uniforms (none of them). Every uniform known to man makes my thighs look bigger, my legs look shorter, my ass gigantic, it just plain brings out all of my worst qualities and to make matters worse there is always that stupid bitch who looks amazing in whatever potato sack she's given. PS and by the way, that stupid bitch is usually my friend and is therefore constantly standing next to me like a giant neon "I'm with fatty" sign.
My greatest fear is being in one of those "Who Wore it Best" features. Ugh.

That being said, I'm not thrilled with the burden of freedom that I have at my new job. I know, I'm very hard to please, but hear me out. As a waitress you have some interesting obstacles when it comes to choosing clothing. You need something that represents who you are and yet can withstand the constant threat of destruction. Can you love your clothes and yet be willing to let them go when they are attacked by red wine, sweat and bleach? I'm not that evolved. That kind of thinking really goes against my hoarding instincts. Shoe options are restricted to comfortable which creates an interesting obstacle. Everything has to look good with or without an apron. On the plus side, I think aprons are flattering and I'm considering incorporating them into my non-work fashion.

I was a huge fan of the "all black" dress code at my last restaurant because
a) black is flattering
b) black hides a mess
c) I had specific work clothes which eliminated difficult decisions and piles of discarded outfits
d) All black looked like a uniform but with none of the drawbacks of an actual uniform (see above)

There isn't anything saying I can't wear all black at my new job.
But somehow that feels like cheating. I mean, I am a style therapist. I have a reputation to consider.
And what would I do with all the things I just bought "ya know, for work."

You think you know someone...

I got a new job.

I've worked in restaurants most of my life and yet my knowledge of food and wine is generally restricted to trying not to consume it. I've never been an adventurous eater. I'm really low end when it comes to food (I actually like grape jelly). I'm not fancy. I'm not a total country mouse, I mean, I know what a cheese plate is. I'm just saying that it has been a great challenge to try and educate myself so that I can sell this menu. This experience has caused me to come to a crushing and life altering realization...I am NOT a great server. All this time I thought I was. Turns out, nope.

I am a workhorse.
I am really sharp, I'm a prolific multi-tasker, I don't tire easily and I'm pleasant even when I'm in the weeds.
I am a great waitress.
I might even go as far as to say one of the best ever (and trust me I am aware of exactly how proud I should be of that).

I really suck at formalities and rules, exotic food, terroir and wine from every country. The whole experience has been unsettling.
It's like I don't even know me.

And that's not all. On top of all the stuff I have to learn (and act like I already knew) and the unsettling discovery that has created a fundamental shift in my whole identity...
There are NO UNIFORMS. Not even a dress code or color restrictions.

On the surface that could seem like a great thing, that is until you factor in the burden of freedom.

That, however, is a discussion for tomorrow.

Right now I have to go look up what pig trotters, ras el hanout, and lengua are.

I know what you are thinking but I'm doing it anyway.

I had a dream I was waiting on the Obamas.

Me: Hi, how are you? What can I get for you this evening?
President Obama: Hello, Krista. (huh, they know my name now) Well, what will you be having?
Me: (terribly impressed at the invite) Oh, thank you! I'm really not very hungry tonight.
President Obama: Now come on.
Me: Oh you know it is back to school time so I'm really watching it, plus I'm feeling really puffy today (at this point I streatched out my arm and pinched the lunch lady fat under my tricep)

Everyone at the table chuckled with understanding and then Michelle Obama ordered the low cal plate (hamburger patty with a scoop of cottage cheese and canned peaches) and President Obama ordered the fish special as a complete dinner (tapioca instead of rice pudding). Why they were regulars at a diner in Carol Stream, I will never know but apparently they were.

Then I told my assistant (uh huh) to get them whatever they needed because I was excited to go and chat with my friend Kristina who surprised us with a visit and she had a sassy new haircut. It was a shorter version of the haircut I had freshman year of high school and it looked really cute.

Now I know that people say no one wants to hear about your dreams (jonathan) especially if they aren't in them (rose) but this one seemed really important.

Plus, I'm a rule breaker.