cow
Moo.

Yes, I said “cows.” I use it as a term of endearment, mostly; doesn’t matter if you’re fat or thin, young or old. I also use it instead of the “b” word, which I try to never use, but it wants to slip out every now and then, usually while I’m driving (well over the speed limit) on the highway.

For purposes of this post, I’m using it to describe overweight ladies, like myself. Understand: I like cows. They’re funny-looking, harmless and make great cartoon characters. I’m from Ohio; I know from cows. Oprah’s a cow for wasting time with that Rielle Hunter interview. Lindsay Lohan’s a cow for wasting all her potential.

Got it? Good.

So I’m officially back on the market after 10 years, because I’ll soon have the privilege of figuring out how to pay for two kids in college. The economy has hurt my ability to secure as many contracts as I’d like, and the fundamentals of supply and demand suggest now is a good time to become unincorporated and give my office space back to the house.

For the past several weeks I’ve been looking around, mostly here in N.C., but also in the D.C. area, where we lived for five years, and where there seem to be many more options for someone with my skill sets. Not giving up the house, though; I’d stay in D.C. during the week, home on the weekends – if the money’s right.

Anyway, today I got my first rejection email of this new effort. It was generic, but still a rejection. I was a little hurt, and that was just enough emotion to allow self-doubt to squeeze through: Is this blog hurting my chances? Everyone will see I’m a cow, and no one wants a cow on the payroll. Maybe I’m just too old. Too expensive. Too black.

For the first time, I can’t just let my resume speak for itself because, thanks to me, Google is archiving my world for the ages.

I choose to believe that’s a good thing, because it means the only interviews I’m going to get are from people who are truly interested in having me on board. The hiring managers will already know more about me than HR regs allow, but I’ve never had a problem with that, anyway. And hey, if after an interview I don’t get the job, I won’t have to question if it was because of my weight, or the old standbys of ethnicity and gender.

No, it’ll just be because they decided to go with someone else, likely more qualified. (Like that’s even possible. . .)

The best way to appreciate your job is to imagine yourself without one.  ~  Oscar Wilde