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[emelbe]

This week one of my coworkers brought in treats for Halloween. It happened to be the same day that I was doing to go to an event after work so I was dressed up: long, severe skirt; surprisingly comfortable, killer-but-still-work-appro heels; fitted sweater (which I later exchanged for a less-work-friendly top); great hair; and a matching imperious demeanor. I was feeling grand, if not a little cheeky.

I loaded up my plate (yes, that is my year-round office plate; it has a skull and crossed bones on it) and one of my coworkers made a joking remark about how I’d need to run a few extra miles later. Yes, they know probably half the crazy physical stuff I do but, after seven years, they should also know that crap does not fly with me, even if it’s presented as a “compliment.” Heavens know I've shot it down enough times. I went back down the hall, trailing attitude, and saying over my shoulder at volume, “I do not need to justify or bargain my way into treats and neither does anyone else. Y’all’re free to keep that judgmental, nonsense to yourselves.”

Happy Halloween, y’all.