Why is it that I always feel the need to impress my therapist? Like he's going, Hmm... She didn't straighten her hair this morning - clearly unstable. Or, My that blouse looks wrinkly - did she pull it straight out of the dryer and slap it on? (Yes, yes I did.) Perhaps we need to increase her dosage...
I'm pondering this as I get ready to put on the highest heels that I own to sit with old Judgey Judgerson for 15 minutes! It's FRIDAY for crying out loud! And I am up to nothing else important today! Yet I will go trudging along to my husband's school, and Wolf Camera, and whatever else I'm doing all in heels because I'm afraid Dr. Bemused Grin with his Steno Notebook of Critical Observations will look disapprovingly upon me showing up in flip-flops.
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