Take it off.
Take it all off.
I’ve only had one job that required me to wear a uniform and it was at a restaurant. At the end of every shift, I couldn’t change out of my clothes fast enough. It was like my uniform, and some days my skin, absorbed every single smell (good and bad) from the night.
Reminds me of when I was stuck in my 9-5. Every day after work, I couldn’t wait to get home and change out of my clothes, dump them in the laundry hamper and get into something that was more comfortable.
I know I’m not alone on this one. Ladies, the bra is usually the first to go! Amirite?
What do you “take off” at the end of your workday?
I’m talking about the ill-fitting uniform you wear to that job you hate. The one that’s two sizes too small and about 20 years out of date. That one.
Here’s what I was really taking off at the end of every day.
I took off the veil of conformity, the need to fit in, the forced smile, the compromising attitude, and people-pleasing. I took off the bullshit mask, agreeing with incompetent leadership, and the need to go along with the status quo.
I took off the shit that I outgrew.
I took off the need to wear what everyone else was wearing because it was “in style”.
When I left my job, I took off the need to “take off”.
What if you didn’t have to take off your “uniform” at the end of the day.
What if you could work in something that fit like your favourite pair of jeans, fuzzy socks and oversized sweatshirt.
What if you worked in a place that didn’t require you to shed a layer of yourself every time you got home.
What if you started paying attention to these little signals. These signs that are telling you that this uniform isn’t for you.