GIGI GOES GAGA

EXPECTING THE EX

The gal who was processing my return at Saks today was young and cute. Makeup in place, hair nicely styled, outfit quietly hip. So it surprised me when one of her co-workers walked by and commented after greeting her chirpily, "Oh -- and you look good today!" As if looking good was more of an exception rather than the rule for this young, cute thing.

She must have sensed my invisible raised eyebrow because, without looking up at me from the register, she explained, "My ex's new girlfriend was in here yesterday and I looked really awful. You know, it was early in the morning, the day after Christmas..."

"Ahh," I think I gave a sigh of relief. "And I was beginning to think people were pretty catty around here."

Cute, young thing giggled. "So now I will NEVER look terrible. You just never know who's going to see you when you look your absolute worst."

Oh I know this too well, trust me. My first boyfriend, the one my life once revolved around, who cheated on me until I finally caught him (actually, a mutual friend confessed out of guilt), has seen me only twice since he married someone else -- and both times I wished the floor would fall underneath me, and then me through the gaping hole left behind. For some inexplicable reason -- karma not being it, I'm certain -- he walked into the store I happened to be working at when I had scheduled myself to reorganize the stockroom. Both days, by the way, were almost a decade apart since he lives thousands of miles away and so he can't possibly think that my appearance each time was merely a fluke.

On both days that this guy who once broke my heart saw me, I was in full grunge mode: no makeup, hair pulled away from my face, and completely covered in sweat, dust, and grime. Not the way you'd wish to look when you want an ex to see you and then regret ever losing you. Especially when you know that if he arrived on any other day you would have been dressed in a sharp black skirt suit, heels, and matte lipstick (Victoria's Secret circa 1990) or in trendy, feminine bohemian chic (Anthropologie, 1999).

So now I'm thinking and panicking: stockroom-ready is how I look practically every day at work now. Sometimes I'm tempted to wear a platform wedge or cropped cashmere cardigan just to update my severely utilitarian look but neither would survive an hour into my workday. Simply put, the only way I could go from work straight to a party is to change my entire outfit in the car en route. Despite what all the fashion magazines suggest, simply slipping on a pair of sexy heels or changing purses to switch from a Day to Evening look would only make me appear like I got caught between time zones.

Which is why I'm half-expecting my ex to show up any day now. But this time I think I'll be ready. My bestfriend Rosanna always says that when you give folks a wide, bright, happy smile when you enter a room, they're too dazzled to notice anything else. Well, I'll be smiling at him so widely, brightly, and happily that he'll either be too distracted to notice how I look -- or think I just really love doing stockwork. But either way it goes, he'll probably notice that I'm happy without him.

(And, yes, I was being catty just now.)

EVERY STEP I MAKE

So here's what I've learned so far about this new crew of people I work with these days. Most of them have been with the company for quite some time now (10+ years!) -- and they still love working here. And despite the highly physical kind of work we do everyday, they are active on their off days as well. For instance, one teaches Kundalini yoga, another one rides horses, one gal just completed her first triathlon, and this other guy runs miles before and after his shifts (he's an actor so he says he has to stay in impossibly terrific shape). And me? I sleep until past noon when I'm off because my body's achy and sore after two or three consecutive work days.

It's all quite annoying really.

But because I'm committed to keeping a positive attitude, I've decided to dwell on the good stuff instead. One: each time I feel a sore muscle (which has been every moment of each day thus far) I tell myself I'm becoming stronger. Two: when I come home from work wanting to do nothing else but get in bed and sleep, I remind myself that not too long ago I consulted with a doctor about my chronic insomnia. Three: when I see my measly paycheck I remember that this is all only temporary -- that I'm merely in my transitionary phase -- but what I'm seeing and learning now is invaluable and worth everything.

What I'm seeing and learning is that it's possible to be in a positive work environment, where I believe in the company and enjoy being with my co-workers and customers. It's not perfect, for sure (pain from physical labor and paycheck shock notwithstanding), but now I'm certain that what I'm looking for is out there and I don't have to settle for less. And that positive always begets positive.

In the meantime, it's my day off and I go back to work tomorrow so I'm getting back into bed again. I'd much prefer to get a massage -- but I think I'd need to collect a few more paychecks before I can afford it. And there's the final lesson I've learned: I'm truly beginning to appreciate everything I used to take for granted -- the nice things, the little extras in life. All these have become even sweeter now. As they should be.

I used to think it would be tragic if I couldn't have whatever it was I wanted. Now I realize that the real tragedy is not being able to appreciate all that I do have instead. This certainly doesn't mean I'm willing to stay put instead of moving forward; it only means I get to appreciate every step I make along the way.

HAIR TODAY, GONE TOMORROW

Many, many summers ago my friend J fell in love with a boy and was so infatuated with him that she couldn't eat or sleep for days on end. Two months later she had lost 15 lbs. and had gone from pleasingly plump to scorchingly svelte.

The only downside was that due to her rapid weight loss, she had lost so much of her thick, black hair that she had a huge bald spot on top of her forehead. I remember joking with her at the time: This is how God evens out the playing field for us women, you see. You may be able to show off your body but now you have to hide your head. She didn't think I was funny at all, obviously.

Well. So guess what else I've been shedding besides all this weight lately? As I peeked a glimpse of this blindingly white patch of skin at the top of the back of my head this morning, I realized where all those strands of long hair on the floor, in the sink, on my pillow, and even on my cat were coming from.

Karma. Ain't it a bitch?

FISH OUT OF WATER

"I've never seen you look like this before."

My husband stopped by the store where I now work part-time. Fortunately I don't have to wear a uniform, but we do have to don the company-issued shirt (not bad-looking, and at least it comes in many colors and styles). So there I stood in front of him: powder-blue logo tee layered on top of a white tissue tee with three-quarter sleeves (it's cold at work, especially when I have to putz around in the freezer), jeans, and sneakers.

He espied the box cutter safely nestled in a holster hanging in my back pocket and the gloves on my hands. I can always read my husband's mind and at that moment he was thinking: What the hell is she doing here?

I am a girly girl, it's true. I prefer to wear skirts, I like nice shoes. I always wear pretty lingerie, no matter what I'm doing. Last week when my manager hired me and explained the dress code, he said I had to wear closed-toe shoes at all times. Then he looked at the pair I was wearing -- metallic indigo fabric with platinum leather trim, with a pointy toe and delicate, medium-height heels -- and shook his head. "But you might not want to wear those," he said amusedly.

On my first day of work I wore low-rise Citizens, fitted on the thigh, and a pair of my most comfortable pair of shoes: black suede Tod's loafers. If my manager was bemused, he hid it well. But I quickly learned that when you're constantly bending, kneeling, and climbing as I am now, fashion jeans might not be up to the task. And now I know why my comfy shoes are called loafers: they're worn to loaf around in, not actually work in.

Which explains what I was wearing on Day 2, when my husband decided he had to see me at work to believe it. He saw the watch I was wearing, the one he gave me last Christmas, the one he said was also for the next 10 Christmases (and birthdays), too. "Take it off and give it to me," he ordered. "Customers might think this place actually pays you well."

So I'm now staring at my nails as I type this. Every single one has broken off and the pretty, shimmering pink nude polish (have I mentioned yet that Chanel Delice rocks?) is hopelessly chipped. Note to self: no more fancy manicures from now on. And I can forget the flat iron in the morning; I'll probably have to pull all my hair away from my face and tie it back, lest it gets in my eyes while I'm up on a stepladder, leaning over to stock heavy cans on the topmost shelf.

Yes, for now I'm a fish out of water, I admit. But this gilded fish is going to plunge right in the frigid water and swim -- in strictly utilitarian footwear if need be. But still always in pretty lingerie. Some things will simply never change, even as I'm trying to change my life. Because no matter what happens between now and then, I still get to have one.

BETTER THEN THAN NOW

Over coffee, about a week ago.

She: God, if there's one thing I regret it's all the time I wasted on those bad relationships. I must have been so insecure to have put up with with all that. We're talking years of my life I can't get back!

Me: I hear you. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I was thinking, too. Although I did luck out once in a while and had a few good men.

She: Well, good for you -- because I sure didn't.

Me: Eh. When it happened it was a case of right guy, wrong time anyway. But usually it was just the wrong guy. Sometimes I think that if I'd spent the same amount of energy on myself and my career instead of trying to fix all those awful relationships, I'd be much further along in life than I am now.

She: Me too!

Me: But we can't think like that, we just can't. I really believe that you and me, we had to get that out of our system. We obviously thought we needed someone else to fix us, so we could become whole or complete or something. And maybe it's good that we did that when we were younger and got it out of the way already. Because maybe if we didn't do it then, then we'd be dealing with that crap now. Because we had to do it... sometime.

She: You really think so?

Me: Yeah, I do. We're so done with all that shit. And anyway, everything we did then brought us to where we are now, right? Besides, to really appreciate the good, I think you gotta know what bad is. And we know BAD for sure.

She: (Laughs.) We sure do!

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My girlfriend and I, we've just cried too many tears over boys who weren't even worth a sniffle. Like that one of hers who kept leading her on even when he already had a fiancée (and then he had the nerve to try to booty-call her a couple of times when his wife was pregnant!). And that one of mine who made all these grand plans for us, like about moving in together, as soon as we started dating -- and then promptly got cold feet because he said we were moving way too fast even if he seemed to be the only one pedaling.

When it came to relationships, I just couldn't get it right. For instance, I turned down a golden opportunity to become an exchange student in the U.S. for a year because I didn't want to leave my boyfriend. Three years later I then left someone I loved quite deeply because I didn't want to make the same mistake -- and wondered for many, many years afterwards if I should have stayed instead. I once committed to a relationship because the guy was really, really nice and I didn't want to hurt his feelings (yes, I actually did this -- only to find out the "Mr. Nice Guy" act fooled so many of us). Then I wouldn't commit to another guy because he was "too" nice and ended up crying on his wedding day.

My friend and I, we have stories we're too ashamed to even think about. But we can either keep beating ourselves over our mistakes, over all that wasted energy and time, or we can simply be grateful that we made them when we were still resilient enough to bounce back. Again and again. And now we're so much stronger; we know better.

Or at least, we're not crying anymore.