My first career was in the golf business. I was a club pro.
It was awesome. My office was the golf course. My job allowed me to meet some of the most incredible people in the world (yep, including Willie Nelson) and walk the fairways of some of the most breath taking pieces of real estate on Earth.
But the thing that sucked horribly for me was having to shave, iron my clothes and tuck in my shirt every day.
My ‘uniform’ was a collared shirt tucked into slacks with nice shoes. Oh, and short hair with a clean-shaven face.
Golf is notorious for strict dress codes. Proper attire and grooming is a big deal in that world.
It was great at first. I was actually a bit of a clothes horse at one point.
But I grew to hate it.
I reached a point where I wanted nothing more than to wear an old t-shirt, shorts, and flip flops to work. And I wanted to not have to shave every day.
Years later, after getting burned out in the golf biz, I got my wish. I landed a job at the coolest company on the planet and was allowed to wear anything I wanted as long as it covered my nether regions.
So I did. Flip flops were my work shoes (which I promptly kicked off first thing and walked around the office in my bare feet). I got deeeeep discounts on Patagonia wear, but I always opted to wearing one of the same three t-shirts and pants/shorts.
After a few years of that, I was able to follow a freelance writing path and work from home.
This is where it really got sloppy.
I could work in my underwear from my couch. And I did. It was great.
But after a while, I started noticing something…
Like the wise ones have said — As within, so without…
The sloppiness of my appearance was a reflection of my inner-sloppiness. I started getting lazy. I gained some weight. I started eating badly.
Our appearance is a story — first, of which, we tell ourselves about ourselves. Secondly which we tell to the world.
Sure, I’d eek out work here and there when I had it. But I just wasn’t very motivated. And my dadbod was kicking in full-force.
I’m just now coming out of this. Lately, I’ve had the urge to clean up my act. I want to start dressing nice again. It’s weird.
But I think this is a profound thing. The external environments we create say a lot about what’s going on within. If we clean our inner house, it’s only natural for the outer house (aka clothes, cars, grooming and living spaces) to whip back into shape.
We’re all beautiful emanations of the divine. But we’re really good at masking it sometimes.
Do these pants make my butt look big?
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