What the hell happened to short sleeves on women’s dress clothes? Somewhere over the last ten years, while I was busy working in my jammies, someone—with a penis, no doubt—decided it was a great idea to remove all the sleeves from women’s professional dresses and blouses. Side note: does anyone say blouse anymore?
Exhibit A: A search of Women Career Dresses on Amazon. Note that of the eight dresses I find on the top panel, one has long sleeves, one has short sleeves, and six are sleeveless. Also notable is that the short sleeve dress looks more suited for a luau than a day at the office.
Exhibit B: Women Career Tops on Amazon. Different search; same result. Well, except for the part where there are a lot more long sleeved shirts, which makes perfect sense because it’s Spring. Wait a minute…. Also, again, please note that most of the tops do not appear to be work related unless you are working at a luau. Or as a call girl.
Here’s the thing… I am a “mature” woman with arms that are over half a century old. When someone comes into an office, no one wants to see those arms exposed. Not the flab, not the bat wings, not the wrinkles, not the skin tags and moles, not the sad blue veins that are struggling desperately to pump enough blood to the tips of my arthritic fingers I can continue typing this rant. No one wants to be greeted by that. No one.
What’s the only way this could be worse, you ask? Well, let me tell ya… Farmer’s tan. Now that the snow has finally melted, I enjoy spending my non-working hours outside. While doing so, I am dressed in the standard redneck uniform of sweat pants and t-shirt. Since t-shirts have short sleeves (because the person who invented the t-shirt 1. doesn’t have a penis, and/or 2. hasn’t gone completely insane), my upper arms are not exposed to the sun. What happens when you wear a t-shirt in the sun all weekend and then put on a nice Kasper dress for work on Monday? It is a look kindly described by my total bad ass husband (PTST) as ‘’interesting.’’ WTF?
Here’s what I came up with this weekend: safety pinned my t-shirt sleeves to the shoulders of my t-shirt so I could get sun all the way up my arms. Granted, some of the neighbors puked when they saw me gardening, but I figure better them than the clients that create my paycheck.
In my attempt to come to work appropriately dressed while facing this crisis, I have taken a tip from my fashionable co-worker (who I have nicknamed Stacy London, for obvious reasons). She recommended cardigans. So I have purchased myself a handful of cardigans to cover my arms to keep the clients from running from the building screaming when they see me at the reception desk. Sadly, this has been met with limited success. Yesterday before leaving home, I checked out my new Springy, large floral print (because large floral print is on trend; small floral makes you look dated–who knew???), flowing, sleeveless blouse with a nice cardigan on top and thought I looked office-suitable. The first time I went to the office restroom, I thought perhaps the light in my bedroom mirror was too forgiving and I looked not so great in public. The second trip in front of the office restroom mirror had me coming out of crapper announcing I looked like Dorothy from the Golden Girls.
So there ya have it. I am destined to either cover my arms with sweaters and jackets through the entire summer and hope I don’t die of heat stroke, or I throw in the towel and join the unsleeved. Wonder how many clients have to throw up when they see my senior arms before I get fired…