Casual Friday, A Love Letter


My Dearest Casual Friday,

It has been a long, uncomfortable week without you, and I’ve been looking forward to your return. Going to work every dreaded Monday through Thursday, feeling my dress shoes rub against my blistered feet, and wearing the tightest of suits truly does a number on a person. I’ve really come to appreciate you, dear Friday. At first I was all gung-ho about dressing up for work and making a grand impression on the world. Now, I realize it was all a façade, and they were all liars. But you stayed there, loyal as ever, waiting for my return every Friday.

My blazers were all too hot and stuffy, but you, my love, are always cool and crisp. My work pants were just too tight around the tummy, but you know how to give and keep on giving when Chipotle tears away at my waistline. These treacherous heels have crippled my feet, but you are there to catch me when I fall (with a handful of papers in the hallway). I should have seen it all along, my Friday. You were the dress code of my dreams, but I was all too caught up in the ideas of every young postgrad to notice. I was just another try-hard youngster ready to take on the world.

Now, as I continue to grow and mature in this degenerate workforce we call Corporate America, I want to say I’m sorry for not giving you the respect you deserve. I used to look down on others wearing jeans and collar-less shirts. I would scowl when I saw a man with an untucked polo. I would grimace at the sight of orthopedic tennis shoes. But I now realize that I’m not a bit better than you or anyone sporting such casual wear. Never again will I trade function for fashion. Never again will I leave your comforting arm(sleeve)s. Never again will I schedule an important business meeting on a Friday and gear up in my dress-to-impress garb.

From now on dear Friday, I vow to treat you like you were truly meant to be treated. I’ll bring in bagels for the break room. I’ll sneak a little Bailey’s in my coffee while no one is looking. I’ll stream sports games and blatantly cheer in my cubicle when my team scores. I’ll go out for a long lunch and have a few too many beers, and I’ll be sure to never skip another happy hour for so long as I may live. Most of all, Friday, I’ll kick back, relax, and enjoy what you are really all about: finally bringing in the damn weekend.

With love,

Premed Donna

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