A long while ago, before I actually worked for Tiny Prints, I did a month-long campaign for them on the subject of gratitude. It was a great campaign all about noticing the little things in life and taking time to be grateful for them. The subject was so perfectly up my alley that I jumped at the chance to participate.
For a month I waxed poetic about smiles, hugs, sand and whatever crossed my mind. After the campaign wrapped up I wore the campaign t-shirt proudly because it was the perfect reminder to slow down and remember the importance of the little things.
Last time I wore this shirt was the day the moving company came over to give us a quote on our move. Every so often as we meandered from room to room, discussing what was moving and what was not, the mover would glance at my chest and just as quickly look away.
It’s something that men have done since I was 12 and grew some womanly appendages. I took no notice.
Then, after spending nearly an hour with me, right after he said goodbye, the poor man turned to me, vaguely gestured in the direction of my chest, and, blushing from the tip of his nose to the tip of his ears, stammered “Exactly what is it I’m supposed to be noticing and giving thanks for?”
That’s right. For two years I walked around with a shirt begging people to notice my chest and thank me for it. To everyone who did, you’re very welcome.
(For the record I told this story at lunch with Kristi Yamaguchi and her husband Bret Hedican last week. My t-shirts are the least of the reason why I shouldn’t be out in public.)