Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Playing Dress Up

I'm going to a wedding next weekend. For which I will be wearing a dress. And, hopefully, nice shoes. Perhaps a piece of jewelry. I will almost certainly shave my legs, brush my hair and put on make up. Even lipstick. In short, it will be the nicest I've looked since the last wedding I went to, a year and a half ago. Except that this time I won't have cuts and green stains all over my hands from doing the flowers.

And as far as I can tell, this will be the last wedding I will attend until the kids are grown. Absolutely everyone I know is married. 

Except me and Eric. But that's a whole different story.

My point is, I either need to make more (unmarried) friends, or find some other occasion for getting dressed up. Because doing it as infrequently as I do, I am out of practice. I have to buy new things each time because just enough time has lapsed since the last occasion that my formal wear is out of style. And since I'm not accustomed to wearing things like strapless dresses and fancy shoes I will probably look as awkward as I will feel; tugging at my bra, squirming out of my shoes, covering my naked, farmer tanned arms.

But I love it. I really do. I love to dress up. I love wearing dresses. Especially the kind that twirl out around you when you spin. So, if you're out there, if you're reading this, please invite me to your next formal occasion. I will wear my pretty plum colored dress and toast your happiness.


  1. The last formal occasion she will attend until the kids are grown. We will see about that.

  2. I was armed with a snark comment but after reading Eric's I think I'll just sit here quietly and smile.

  3. He's all talk. He needs to put his money where... no, wait, he needs to put his mouth... Oh, never mind.

  4. Oh sister I feel you.
    Let me tell you the sad tale of a gal who had to go to dinner last week causing her to run out to Nordstroms to buy some of those knee high black boots that are in style this year.
    She put on matching clean trouser socks in preparation for this joyous occasion and asked for two pairs of lucious black sexiness in the correct size nine.
    Drooling she lifted them from the tissue paper in the box and slid them over her foot and then.......
    She couldn't get her fat watermelon calves shoved in enough to zipper them up.
    So she cried and wore her shitkicking Frye boots instead.
    Even though she looked like a horse wrangler instead of a sexy city gal at dinner with all the highfalutin' people.
    Screw you skinny boots.

  5. p.s. Mowing your walkers is overrated.
    I go without shaving the whole winter just in case the furnace gives out and I need the fur for warmth.
    Sorry, that's oversharing.

  6. No, it's helpful. My furnace went out twice last winter. If I hadn't shaved my legs I probably wouldn't have had to heat the house by turning the oven up all the way and leaving it open.

    Ah yes. The skinny boot. The skinny boot was not made for the short of stature or the thick calved. Both of which I am. Neither am I destined to be able to gracefully fit my hammy feet into a sparkly strappy sandal. Shoe shopping makes me feel like one of Cinderella's ugly stepsisters.


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