One artist's opinion on The Old Navy Artist Shirt

Let me start with this, I don't have a problem with Old Navy's shirt that has "artist" crossed out in the phrase "young aspiring artist". I don't. At all.

Full disclosure, I used to work for Old Navy for a couple years in recent past. Used to. Past tense. And I left on great terms. And no one at GAP Inc. asked me to write this or has offered to compensate me. I'm writing this because I see so many tweets and posts from proponents of the performing arts (including great arts organizations) bashing the "derogatory"...wait for it...ARTWORK on this individual piece of clothing.

That being said...why do I even have an opinion on this?

I've been a supporter of the arts for much longer than Old Navy has even been around. I've often had to defend the importance of the arts, in general, and in my life, personal and professional. I grew up playing the violin, singing in choir, acting in plays, and generally being a mascot in my everyday life, not just in high school. I love the performing arts, and I always will.

And this is what I thought when I saw the image...

"Oh, 'artist' is highlighted with paint (an artistic medium) and the young artist has chosen their vocation."

Ok, maybe I don't sound that eloquent in my head, but that's the general attitude of it. I did not see it as a bashing of the arts because I see art in every profession. Writing, teaching, building...Presidenting...

There is art in every single one of us. Yes, if we pigeonhole the term "art" in regards to visual and performing arts, then yes, through that lens I can totally understand where you can take this graphic designer's work of ART and INTERPRET it offensively.

For example...a carpenter. Master Builder (#LegoMovie), wood burner, whittler, whatever. These are artists. They have a craft in their skill set. They have a canvas: the wood. They have tools: chisels, saws, hammers. They have an audience: the consumer.

A teacher. They have their stories to tell: lessons. They have their audience: students. They have their stage: the classroom

An author or playwright. This one is more straightforward. They have a story to tell: the essay, book, or script. They have the tools: their minds, keyboards, typewriters, notepads, napkins, whatever. And they have their audience: you.

A president. The story: leading. The tools: their education and background, their eyes and ears, their staff. The audience: the citizens.

A chef. The story: presenting a course, or a meal through several courses. The tools: utensils, cookware, stove, oven. The audience: you, your mouth, your tastebuds.

You want a "less creative" profession? Well maybe that's the real issue...you aren't seeing the creativity in the profession. 

Let's take a position that is considered an administrative/management position (if the example of President didn't do it for you).

Human Resources Manager.

The story: leading a company through regulations and generally making sure the company doesn't get in trouble. Hiring and disciplining employees. Sharing information about benefits, the company, and the team.

The tools: hiring practices, training material, company history.

The audience: current and new employees.

How about another one?

Accountant.

The story: organizing, preparing, and presenting the state of the organization for better or for worse.

The tools: numbers, reports, profit & loss statements, computers, adding machines, printers.

The audience: auditors, board members, the IRS.

Or even going back to one of the professions listed on the shirt itself...

Astronaut.

The story: gathering data about a world where very few actually know about.

The tools: this list is just as expansive as the space they travel in. Oxygen tanks, computers, rockets, space suits, helmets...

The audience: The World. Literally. The home space station.

So yeah, you want to say there's no art in those professions?

Why should a graphic designer be stoned for putting forth something they felt proud of? Why should a company who generally presents positive messages on their clothing all of a sudden change their attitude?

Why can't you explain to your children, coworkers, and team members that there is art in everything and that WE are all artists. Similar to when parents write letters to celebrities and companies about their "insensitive" material...why can't we have the discussions in our own homes and why are trying to make for-profit businesses change what they're doing to make money when we can educate each other.

The issue is not the opinion of art in this one, singular piece of clothing. It's the attitude towards art and artists that has been hammered into our collective consciousness.

We are all artists. We are all musicians. We are all painters, storytellers, writers, and actors. 

Have you ever worked in retail? Food service? Customer service? You have acting experience.

Have you ever cut the grass, trimmed a hedge, or done someone's make up? You're an artist.

Do you ever communicate through spoken, written, or sign language? You're a storyteller.

I know that I may receive some backlash from my fine/performing arts colleagues, but that's ok. I'm telling my story now, as it came up, in the way that I know best...writing.

I am an artist. Not because I've lived in and around the performing arts. Not because I have a degree in Theatre. Not because I work at a theatre company. But because I choose to appreciate art in as much as I can, and THAT is why I don't have a problem with "the shirt."

p.s. What if the screenprint was messed up and the artist's intention was for "aspiring" to be crossed out so that it read "Young Artist"?

April 10: My Fave Part of the Day

As the gray, snowy days have been becoming scarce, clear shots of the sunrise have been more frequent. If I've won the battle with my snooze function, I usually get to work a few minutes before I have to actually go in, as I did this particular day.

There's a level of clarity that is bestowed upon you at this point in the day. With the parking lot still rather empty, before the doors have been unlocked, and the customers arrive, there is serenity in the stillness.

In my post from March 26th (I Am Here), I talked about how it's important to be present in whatever you do. That's why I enjoy this moment so much. It's before I even enter the building. Before I get out of my car and walk up to the doors and cross the physical threshold of my place of work, I take a moment to myself to mentally prepare for a transition.

I'm no escape artist attempting to wriggle out of a strait jacket and chains in a locked box filled with water, but it's still imperative to let yourself know that you are stepping into a different environment when you get to work. The focus is different, the attitudes may need some alterations as well, and to put it bluntly, you're on stage.

And actors stay in character well before they get on stage, and for a bit after they leave. But listen to RDJ in Tropic Thunder.



Sidenote: I'm not using this to condone the use of the word "retard".

The MDA and Me: Make a Muscle and Make a Difference

Picture your life when you were 17.

I turned 17 a couple months into my senior year of high school. I was just over a hundred pounds soaking wet, with not much of a clue of what I was going to do about college. I sat first chair in my high school orchestra, joined the Drama Club, and ran around the gym during rallies making me the first unofficial mascot in the inaugural graduating class of Deer Valley High School.

Successes? Um, I had won a handful of spelling bees and received a few certificates for perfect attendance, but not much else. Oh, I did win a dance contest in the first grade at my private school.

Struggles? I wore glasses and had to watch what I ate because of food allergies. My all-time favorite color is red. (But of course I had other phases: blue, orange, and yellow. Oh, yellow.) Matchbox Twenty has been my favorite band since I was in high school. And I love lemon bars—really any dessert treat or pastry with lemon in it (without nuts of course, since I’m allergic). I was just another kid who had never broken a bone, loved hugs, and laughed as much as I could.

In the last fifteen years I’ve graduated from high school, joined the Navy, deployed on a submarine, been to Norway and Scotland, learned to shoot multiple firearms, lived on both coasts, loved, lost, and loved again, earned a Bachelor’s in Theatre Directing, shoveled snow, cried in the sand, written the majority of my first book, and exchanged vows on a sunny January day in California before moving to Indiana where I am today.

But if someone told me when I was seventeen that I wouldn’t make it past my thirties, I’d probably have a better plan of what I wanted to do with my life.

The other day I got to meet a seventeen year old who very definitely knows what she wants to do after she graduates. She wants to major in Clinical Microbiology, ideally at Northwestern. And she wants to minor in singing. Over the last 7 ½ years she’s been practicing Taekwondo, and she’s currently a 2^nd degree Black Belt instructor.

But let’s backtrack a bit first.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been in contact via email with Alison Eckert. Alison is with the Muscular Dystrophy Association as their Fundraising Coordinator for Northern Indiana, and she wanted to introduce me to Nikki as a local ambassador for MDA in preparation for the MDA Muscle Walk on April 26^th at Bethel College.

Through these emails Alison and I exchanged in coordination of this meet-up, I had not asked if Nikki was living with Muscular Dystrophy or if that she was talking to us as a representative from a family who is affected by MD. Alison had arrived first and so we chatted for a few minutes in the front of the store while we waited for Nikki to arrive. When she walked in with her backpack on and her blended beverage in her hand, I felt terrible for being so uninformed and doing some pre-judging in my head, because Nikki looked like any other customer that would walk into the store. She didn’t have any leg braces, canes, or a wheelchair. She looked…normal.

If it weren’t for Alison calling her over to introduce her to me, I’d have treated her like any other person walking into the store that day, or any other day. But in thinking about it, that’s the way it should be.

But it isn’t always that easy.

Looking at her, you would probably have no idea. And that’s the best part of getting to know someone. You find out about the stories you can’t see. But who I do see is in the break room at work. She sits on the opposite end of the couch from me, half cross-legged with one foot on the floor. The braid her brown hair is in curls around her neck, perched on her right shoulder, and her face is calm, adorned with black-rimmed glasses, framing her eyes that await questions I have not prepared. Her friend Alison sits in a folding chair in front of us on the couch, but she turns to face Nikki, the woman of the hour, as if to silently defer.

Alison (left), Nikki (center), and myself at Old Navy.

I was not prepared to do a one-on-one interview. I was hoping for a small group of us to be in attendance for their visit, but the universe had other plans, so I decided I would take notes to share with the others. What happened over the next hour (and I hate to sound cliché, but it’s true) literally changed me life. What I learned from Nikki and Alison accelerated the development of a bit of my work life, and plenty of my personal life.

After some small talk and getting settled in the break room while we waited a few more minutes to see if anyone else would show up to meet Nikki and Alison, I decided that I just had to jump in and just start asking questions. I apologized for my fumbling around, but I was swimming in awkward attempts to be politically correct and sensitive and inoffensive and didn’t know how to bring up what we all knew she was there to talk about.

What was I supposed to ask? These were my options in my head:

“What are you suffering from?” Because she definitely didn’t look like she was suffering at all. She looked more lively and moved more enthusiastically than most people I see day to day.

“What is your affliction?” Does anyone even talk like that?

“Why are you a part of MDA?” Is the MDA a club? Was she initiated like a sorority? C’mon, Marlon.

While I considered my options, she just went ahead and said it because she knew that’s what I wanted to ask but didn’t have a way of asking it “nicely.” She called me out.

“ ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Right?”

Right. Even though I knew that was a rude way of asking, in addition to be incorrect because I didn’t even think there was anything wrong, incorrect, or in any way negative about her.

Nikki Losievski is living with Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA type 3), which affects a portion of the nervous system that controls voluntary muscle movement. SMA is an invisible muscle disease with genetic roots that doctors don’t even know if it’s hereditary or caused by a genetic mutation. That means she doesn’t know if she got it from her parents or if it’s due to a surprise abnormality in genetic coding. In turn, that means researchers and scientists are challenged with finding a cure let alone a solid treatment since they don’t even know its origins.

And that’s just the overview of why MDA plays a part in Nikki’s life. Before last summer her family didn’t even know she had SMA. She had shown signs of as early as 18 months, but not everyone has been helpful, or correct for that matter, along the way, including two incorrect diagnoses of Cerebral Palsy and Congenital Myopathy. She admitted that one doctor even told her, “Yeah, you’re not gonna be walking much longer,” and that she would be “lucky to make it” into her twenties and thirties.

Did you miss the part where I said she’s a 2nd degree Black Belt in Taekwondo? Well she is. And I was subject to a fraction of that strength when she slapped me a strong high five before she left.

So how does the Muscular Dystrophy Association play an integral part in her life? There are plenty of services available to her and her family, but the most fun comes from camp. One week out of the summer, kids and young adults from 6-17 years of age gather for plenty of fun and safe outdoor experiences, partnered with a camp counselor of their own. Nikki loves MDA Camp for many reasons. One of the first things she said is that
“[MDA camp] is a place where you’re actually normal.”

Nikki goes on to say to summer camp is a great way to “hit the reset button” and “build a support system.” At a place like this, no one has to feel different, out of place, or fear being bullied—something that happens weekly, if not on a daily basis at school. Additionally, there is a 1:1 member to counselor ratio, and one of the best perks for parents and caregivers is that they can attend at no cost to their family. The cost of $800 per child is covered by MDA (thanks to donors like you) to provide a safe, fun, worry-free environment where these children and young adults can focus on sharing stories, making friendships, and living their lives instead of a muscular disease controlling them.

As the Community Leader at my Old Navy, it’s up to me to partner with community organizations and get our team members to provide services and assistance to the neighborhoods we live in. I signed up to do the MDA Muscle Walk because it was opportunity to help out, but I knew I had to do something more. It’s one thing to share my personal fundraising page for the upcoming event, but I think of all those pictures and links with captions that scream “1 LIKE = 1 RESPECT” or “RT OR USE #[inserttragedyhere] TO SHOW YOUR SUPPORT”.

Medical research, flu shots, and services like summer camp can’t be paid for with retweets and likes. They need monetary donations. Alison kept it simple, saying that donations “provide hope.” And what did Nikki have to say about why you should donate?

“[Muscular Dystrophy] deprives kids of having an actual childhood.”

Nikki is not SMA, just as her friends are not ALS, Mitochondrial Myopathy, or Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy.

Nikki Losievski is a 17 year-old junior at Penn High School whose favorite dessert is coconut cream pie. She’s a younger sister and a daughter. She loves metalcore and rock. Her favorite bands are Parkway Drive and Black Veil Brides.

She is not her diagnosis.

But she is the reason I’m sharing this story. She is now a personal connection to the MDA, and why Team Old Navy is fundraising for and participating in the MDA Muscle Walk on April 26^th. I started on this path with MDA because it fit the bill for a work-related responsibility, but I’m continuing because I have the opportunity to help someone else.

Click here to donate. 

Everyone can make a muscle and make a difference.

PBDC Day 26/31: I Am Here

I'm playing the "artistic license" card on this one by not taking a photo to encapsulate the day. That, and I couldn't find the right composition to convey what I want to say. However, if you want the literal depiction...

Thanks to my wife for indulging me, because yes, when she took that photo I could honestly say, "I am here." And I also enjoy the illusion of my own beheading as my hooded head blends into the black night, despite seeing my full form in my shadow.

Thinking about it, I guess I did take a photo of where I was earlier this morning.

Shocker, I was at work, at the ON where we had an awesome one day sale for tee hoodies for the whole fam. (If you're reading this, the Old Navy nearest you is probably closed and the sale pictured above is no longer valid. Just saying.) If you missed out, sorry you missed out. But if you snagged a tee hoodie, or six, or for your entire family...high five!

But back to my stance on not denoting one photo as my Photo a Day submission for today...

I am here.

In no way am I attempting to say I'm an omnipotent being (nor is this a coded confession that I'm impotent). What I'm saying is that I am here at all times.

"I am here," is more than a declaration of my location.

"I am here," is a reminder to pay attention to your life, your environment, and to respect the time of those you have requested their time (or those that have requested yours).

In short... BE PRESENT IN EVERYTHING YOU DO.

In acting classes I've taken, and many rehearsals and performances, there are reminders among the cast members to be present in each performance. In each scene, and in every moment. Don't just recite lines by rote. Don't walk to certain parts of the stage to "hit your mark." Understand your character, your world, and your story and fuse them all together to connect with your scene partners and be present together to create a piece of art.

If you aren't, the audience can tell. They can always tell. And when they know, you'll know. And it isn't pretty. The glow of smartphone screens illuminate their faces from their cupped hands. Their elbows leave their knees and they lean back in their chairs to count the lamps hanging from the overhead. You hear the rustle of programs and purses as they fumble for something to keep their attention.

And all is lost. The magic is gone. The story is decapitated. And the art is deflated.

This also applies to any vocation which involves customer interaction. Before we go on, let's broaden the perspective on "customer." Typically, when we hear "customer" we think "paying customer" at a retail location, food service, clothing, sporting event...anywhere someone would be looking for something at a place of business at which they'll be exchanging a product for currency. Support departments also have customers. Human Resources, IT, Accounting, management, their customers are the employees, but sometimes this gets lost because there's no direct exchange of money for the services received.

Starting with the traditional sense of the word "customer," let's take the situation of being on the sales floor and interacting with a customer. (For a specific, real life example, check out Far Away from Day 10 this month.) If I'm present while working with my customer, I can pay attention to her, engage her in conversation, take in information from verbal and non-verbal cues, and provide her with an excellent shopping experience. If I'm not, I can miss what she's telling me, make ill-informed suggestions, and ultimately, frustrate her instead of helping her.

What entails not being present? Thinking about off-the-clock topics while you should be engaged with customers. Wondering if you forgot to lock your car, an argument you had with your partner the night before, a math test you think you just bombed before coming to work, anything that is not work-related that distracts you and prevents you from fully investing yourself to your work.

In college, when we showed up to rehearsals and performances, we would sign into a Call Sheet to let our stage manager know we have officially arrived. At a couple different jobs I've had, present employment included, we punch in on an electronic time clock. In a basketball game, you check into the scorer's table and wait for the next in bound to step onto the floor. All of these examples are exact moments in which you remind yourself you are stepping onto the playing field and clocking in. Literally. This is the moment you are given to mentally step through the threshold and lock in.

You're on the sales floor, you're engaging with customers, you're helping people out, and maybe you run into a challenging situation: an angry customer, an off-putting interaction, we've all had them. If a deep breath and a quick count to three doesn't do the trick, maybe you need to step off the floor for a moment and head to the break room out of sight of the customers to regain your composure. In a position of customer service, you're putting on a show for the customers whether they are buying anything that day or not. Lock it in. You're getting paid for it. It's your job.

Think about everything else on your break, on your lunch, or after work. If you can't leave it at the door when you come in, maybe you shouldn't be there, or maybe you need to try to control your mood a bit more so you can be present when it's crunch time.

For an extreme example, say an EMT arrives at a crash scene and three compressions into a CPR cycle,  she remembers her father starts chemo that day.

Flatline.

To apply it to retail, maybe you're helping someone in the fitting room and you come back with an incorrect size, and what you guessed, since you blanked when you got to the dressed on the floor and just grabbed one, was way off and she just ended up leaving because you struck a chord of body image insecurity.

In the theatre? You flashback to the fight you had last night and start spouting off what you should have said when you should be telling young Juliet how a family vendetta means nothing to you.

So yes. I am here. Try it out. Maybe saying it in your head when you clock in, step onto the sales floor, or wipe your feet on the non-skid pad before stepping onto the court at the start of the 4th quarter. A little focus goes a long way.

Team Old Navy and the MDA Muscle Walk

On April 26th, a group of us from Old Navy in Mishawaka will be participating in the MDA Muscle Walk at Bethel College.

As of right now, there are four others besides myself who are officially registered for the team:

• Katie Andrews
• Kristin Blazi
• Bridgett Bradberry
• Paige Tomchak

If you're in the Mishawaka area and would like to join our team (whether you're an Old Navy employee or not), click the link below

YES, THIS LINK

Before I wrote this post, I donated $6, not just because it's a good cause, but because I wouldn't ask people to do something I wouldn't do myself. And I thought about it in terms of food.

• Lunch combo at a fast food place: $6-$7
• Med espresso drink: $3-$5
• Vending machine snack: $0.50-$1.00

So before you tell me you can't donate anything, think about the last time you grabbed a latte on the way to work, or a candy bar from the vending machine. Even if it's just a dollar.

According to this article, the average adult Facebook user has around 250 Facebook friends.

So, if you say I'm average, if each friend donated ONE DOLLAR, then I would exceed my goal of $100 by another $150.

So think about it. Can you spare a dollar? And if you can or cannot, can you share this post so that others can? Click on this cool guy below, he'll take you to the MDA page and lead you through it.

If you can donate more, that would be awesome, and I would get absolutely nothing out of it besides the satisfaction of knowing that I know people that like helping other people they've never even met!

Thanks in advance!

PBDC Day 10/31: Far Away

I love my job. I really do. There are aspects that are more challenging than others, and of those there are some that aren't directly business-related. They're challenging on a personal level. Like most folks I know, I didn't have the greatest self-esteem in high school. My self-image, at least in regards to physicality, was not very positive. In grade school I was always more comfortable around the girls. I was neither athletic nor aggressive, so those quiet ones that played off to the side by the swings with their hand games and jump ropes were definitely the ones I felt more comfortable around.

In the Navy I had the pleasure of serving aboard a submarine. That sounds more generic than I intended. I had the pleasure of serving aboard the USS Hyman G. Rickover, SSN-709 out of Norfolk, Virginia. This boat, like many submarines, had a crew without a single woman as a part of the team (or a married woman for that matter). Being in a male-dominated environment was new to me, especially being raised in a house under matriarchal rule.

The gender-role-imploding shell shock I experienced was amplified after I was discharged when I began a period of time where most of my time was spent in bars, mostly for work but also because it was a bar. I'm not proud to admit it, but in this period of time between the first time I got my heart demolished after boot camp and around when my time spent in bars was being phased out by time in the theatre, I didn't respect women as much as I could have.

I was surrounded by plenty of negative influences, but remained in contact with enough people who were grounded and just flat out nice that I finally made my way into the clear.

College helped me back onto my professional, respectful feet, and realizing how off the deep end I was as a single sailor, a traveling Army contractor, a bartender, and a karaoke DJ, it became clearer that I was finally heading in the right direction.

Once I started at Old Navy I discovered a great opportunity for improvement in my interpersonal communication: how I communicate with women in regards to their physical appearance. From a traditional background (some may call it "old-fashioned") I was raised to never ask a woman her age, weight, or anything that may require her to divulge information about her body shape, size, or general opinion about her self-image.

Today I broke through a wall.

Two woman were in the fitting room area while I was at work today, the slimmer one, "Jane" we'll call her, with a couple pairs of shoes in her hand as moral support for "Jenny," the other, as she was looking for new jeans. Approaching them to help them out, Jenny was blunt in her request, asking if she could "possibly find jeans to fit this"--at which point she turned around and lifted her sweater to show her butt (still clothed of course). She said she had lost some weight recently and had no idea as to even what size she would start with.

I admitted that I felt like guessing her size would be as awkward and possibly as offensive as guessing someone's age, but she said I couldn't offend her if I tried. Luckily, she told me that the men's jeans she was wearing were a 32 or 34, and she had no way of knowing this, but having tried on some women's pants the other day (Day 7: Fly) I knew exactly what size a 34" waist would translate to being that was my size.

I told her that I wore a 34" waist and that perhaps a 12 would be best. She cringed at the number, and without hesitation I replied, "people won't be commenting on what number they think your jeans are, they'll notice if they fit you or not." To which her friend Jane turned to me and thanked me for my encouraging words and a good point. But it's really true. Take a wedding dress for example. Say you purchase a 12, but you need it altered as the wedding gets closer, or for an extreme example, you need a new one in a size or two larger or smaller. Guests at the wedding won't be sitting out there saying, "OMG she used to be a 12, but now she's in a 16," they'll be focusing on how good you look in whatever size dress you wear. (However, if your "friends" are guessing your size and criticizing that, then maybe you need to rethink your circle of friends.)

Over the next 20 minutes or so, I brought Jenny different shirts to go with a couple of pairs of jeans I was able to strategically suggest, and without realizing it until later this evening, I got over my apprehension for constructive criticism in the fitting room and was able to help Jenny go home with some new jeans that she didn't think she would find.

My point is this--we obsess over numbers. 14, 16, 2, 0, oh, the unattainable 0, or 6, whatever you were before. Or another example, benching 150 vs 120, running a mile in 9 minutes vs 8:30, or eating four slices of pizza versus 3.

Who's holding you to a certain size? The fashion industry? Magazines? Musicians and actors who have personal trainers and spend more time working out than you do working to pay your bills? So, I ask you again, who are you trying to impress by attaining a certain size? Who's putting that pressure on you?

YOU ARE.

One of the many things I've come to realize in the last seventeen months I've been with Old Navy is something very simple and in plain sight for everyone to see...

Clothes are made in multiple sizes for a reason. And that reason is that people come in multiple sizes.

Stop obsessing about what size you wear and pay attention to how it fits you. I don't care if you could fit into an 8 in high school, you aren't in high school any more. Or maybe you had a 30 inch waist a few years back and now you're a 36.

THEY MAKE CLOTHES IN ALL SIZES SO YOU CAN FEEL COMFORTABLE IN A SIZE THAT FITS YOU PROPERLY.

I know I'm just one guy. One man. One person at an Old Navy in Indiana, but hopefully more than a few people will read this.

This scale is in my bathroom at home. I don't use it often, and whenever I do I think to myself exactly what I was saying above, "Why am I targeting a specific weight when I could be focusing on just being healthy and being comfortable with myself?"

Well, today I've broken through a wall that will help me provide better customer service to Jennies in the future. And maybe I'll mention to a few more when I notice a cringe or hear a groan whenever a size comes up. I know it isn't in my job description to help someone feel better about themselves, but it is in my job description to provide excellent customer service. If I can do that by ensuring they leave with a new outfit that they love and that she feels great in, then yes, I'll keep providing great customer service.

The numbers of sizes and measurements are there to help us find what we can use. They aren't there to trap us or make us feel bad about ourselves. I took a big step today with this, and it may only be one step, but it's a step. Maybe I can help alter the perspective of a few people here and there. Or maybe just one. I wish I could see a time when there people stop obsessing over their sizes, but that day seems so far away.

PBDC Day 7/31: Fly

Today was a struggle to find something more compelling than the picture of a crotch. With the end of winter still more than a few days away, I might have more success hatching a bird of my own than waiting to see one fly overhead.

And then I put some funk on it, got a little groovy, and took today's prompt back in time.

Go ahead, you can say it. These pants are pretty fly. Don't think so? We think so. And we mean business.

No, my work didn't pay me to write this blog, but in a way they did. 

If you haven't seen Old Navy's new commercial for the Pixie Pants with Amy Poehler, check it out below.

These Pixie Pants are designed for women, and as one of the store leaders, it's one of my responsibilities to ensure our team knows about the products we're selling. The easiest way to learn about the product is to try it on. It's also in my style of leadership to motivate and encourage my team members.

In my theatre education as a director, it was a challenge for me to encourage and motivate my actors for the production we were in together. I would often question them and them push them, but I told myself I wouldn't ask them to do anything or go anywhere (emotionally) that I wouldn't do myself.

And so I brought that to the ON.

I want the team to learn about the Pixie Pants. I need them to try them on so they can honestly speak to them when talking to customers. And today, two guys from other stores happened to be in the house as well, and so, in our love for Old Navy, in the spirit of team motivation, awesomeness, and just generally having a good time, we rocked the Charlie's Angels pose in these fly trousers.

I'm not going to lie, they were crazy comfortable, and probably the most comfortable pair of pants (that weren't sweat pants) I've ever worn. They were soft and stretchy and they scream "LOOK AT ME I'M AWESOME!"

And then I felt like a jerk.

"If these weren't women's pants, I'd totally own a pair." I thought to myself. Well, not really to myself, as the two other guys echoed my opinion. (I strategically placed graphics over their faces to grant a courtesy of secrecy, and because this is my blog and not theirs...)

And who said men can't wear these pants? No and everyone at the same time.

Pink is for girls, blue is for boys. Girls play softball, boys play hardball. (But softballs are still pretty hard.) Societal standards, gender roles, and lines drawn in the sand. Watch this video:

Now think about the last time you thought something along the lines of "that's for a girl/boy" or "that would be weird if I wore that."

I like to say that I do what I want, but in the grand scheme of things I really don't. Sometimes, but kind of not really. I'm being more than moderately wishy washy today, and if you've never seen this side of me, "Hello, nice to meet you. I'm a human just like everyone else."

But back to the pants. They're fly as all hell. The patterns are rockin, they scream springtime fashion party, and they're seriously the most comfortable pants (save sweats) I've ever tried on.

And if you hadn't already asked the question, no, this isn't the first time I've worn something that is generally categorized as women's clothing. My first lead role in theatre came with a set of tights. And in college, I was in a play that gave me tights, heels, and a ponytail. Here's a picture of myself as the young Thomas Diaforus from Moliere's The Imaginary Invalid.

So thanks, Old Navy, for encouraging us to try something new.

Do something different this month. Something that you know for a fact will get you a weird look from people, but you want to do because you want to learn something. Because you want to try something out that harms no one. That's really all we did today. We tried on pants, got a few weird looks, made some co-workers laugh, and at the end of the day, no one got hurt, and we all had a good time. Sounds like a win to me.

Before I go, I want to share one last photo. One of just me, because I wanted to show myself I could have a picture of myself in these sweet pants without anyone else to lean on. So I asked my coworker, KChaz to take a picture of me like I was shooting an album cover. Enjoy.

I'm pretty fly for a brown guy.