First day of the real world was a weird mixture of exhilaration... and pain (it's the heels, man).
I gave Grahm a two-hour fashion show last night, because I obviously needed his opinion for my most important decision -- aka what to wear on my first day. Our walk-in closet turned into a weird episode of Hell's Kitchen, except for less screaming and food and knives. Strangely, Grahm had several opinions of my recent work-appropriate purchases.
Silly me, I thought I would walk out in my planned outfit for the morning, and he'd say "Great! You'll look beautiful tomorrow!" Nooooot. Instead, he decided to channel his inner Tim Gunn and got all Project Runway on my buns.
"It looks good, but I think we can do better."
"How many pairs of black heels do you have?"
"What about coordinating your earrings with that teal belt?"
My eyes haven't fully adjusted to the cubicle life. It's gray. And monotonous. I really wanna play paintball in there and blast some color on the walls... But I feel legit. I haven't started the actual editing yet, but I'm sure once the training shenanigans finishes up, I'll be up to my eyeballs in red pens and Chicago Manual style books. My kind of heaven.
Since the position is only a temp (6 months), I feel a lot of pressure to do well. Guess that's why I need to strap on my I'm-a-big-girl-now panties every morning, and no, I'm not talking about Huggies.