Thanks to a doozy of a winter storm, I had the opportunity to work from home today.  I also had the “opportunity” to spend quite a bit of time helping my husband shovel snow.

Since I knew I’d be home all day, and not venturing out into public, I stayed in my comfy clothes…. Basically sweats or yoga pants and soft fleece oversized shirts. When one of these fashionable sets got soaking wet from battling the white stuff, I simply changed into another similar outfit.  When my feet weren’t in boots, they were in fuzzy socks or slippers.  I put on no makeup at all.  As a matter of fact, I didn’t even shower until late afternoon.

In essence, I was what I call schlubby — all day.  And I was ridiculously comfortable and relaxed. I’d be concerned that my husband would be horrified or turned off by the sight of me, but he was in his Schlub Best throughout the day as well.

I began to wonder… if I had an at-home job, would I spend most of my days like this?  If I knew that no one other than immediate family would see me, would I still take the time to look better than this?  Is this a momentary opportunity to take my appearance down a notch, or do I have a secret desire to be a schlub?  Clearly it is easier to crave comfort in the winter when we want to hibernate under a blanket most days anyway… but I could certainly envision myself in a similar look in the summer… something like a ponytail, ratty shorts and tshirt and barefeet.  Ahhhhh…

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy style, and I have a bit of a love affair in particular with shoes and jewelry.  Dressing up can be fun, and we R.W.’s all like to look our best — and if we can turn a head or two in the process, that does wonders for our ego.  But what of the R.W. in her natural habitat?  Away from public eye?  Are we our true selves when we allow ourselves some schlub time?

I used to think that I wouldn’t be productive or focused if I didn’t get “dressed for work.”  However, I’ve gotta say I’ve been pretty darn productive today.  Got job-work done, got two loads of wash completed, shoveled the patio and walkway twice, got in a short basement workout, and made fresh rolls to go with dinner.  Perhaps removing all that pesky time I would usually spend primping and color matching allowed me to concentrate on other activities.

I do know some R.W.’s who always, without fail, look their best.  Never ever seen without a coordinated outfit, makeup and good hair.  I’m impressed by them.  And I’m sure if any of them could see me now, they’d smile politely and say something like “you look comfortable.”   Yup. I sure am.

Tomorrow I’ll be back to the office, and I’ll get back into my public personae.  For as much as I’ve enjoyed my schlub time today, I by no means want to share this side of my identity with co-workers or strangers.   I guess therein lies my answer…. I could never be a full-time schlubber.  Call it ego, call it vanity, call it pride, or just plain call it respect for myself and others – but there is a time and a place for the natural, comfy me.  And I wouldn’t enjoy a rare day of being schlubby quite so much if it was my every day role.  At least I’ll try to tell myself that tomorrow as I gaze longingly at my fuzzy slippers when I head out the door.