Today I am grateful that I found a dress for the wedding! I ordered it on line after reading a billion reviews from “pears” and “apples” whom had all worn it for a kids wedding and loved it. “Comfort, pretty, elegant,” were adjectives used. Okay. Works for me. So I bought it on line from Nordstroms.
The other day, as we are in the throes of de-decorating, the doorbell rings. John comes back into the living room with a big box and a questioning look on his face. “That’s my dress, I bet,” I say, with very little enthusiasm. He sets it down and starts looking for a piece of furniture to hide under.
My sister calls and I tell her it came. “Well,” she asks. “Does it fit?” I tell her I haven’t even opened it, yet. She and I talk about what an idiot I am for being so whacko about a silly dress and I tell her I will open it when I am ready.
The blasted thing screamed at me from the box in the living room as loud as brownies in the basement freezer! I opened it. Pulled out the thing and sat with it on my lap for twenty minutes, steeling myself to plunge ahead and take it out of the plastic. When I did I opened it I pulled on the under slip and declared, “It won’t fit.” Poking his head out from under the dining room table where he was hiding, John asked, “How do you know if you don’t try it on?” Poor guy. I’d verbally smack me if I was him!
So I schlumped myself to the bedroom and tried it on. Over sweat pants. It fit. Really? Are you kidding me? I kept turning and looking and stretching and pulling to be sure it fit okay. The under-slip is a little tight, but not impossible. It didn’t roll up like a window shade like some I tried on. But why do they do that? Make a nice full skirt, then put a STRAIGHT attached slip underneath it? Whose idea was this? If I have a fat enough ass for a full skirt do you think it isn’t a fat ass for the straight slip? Do the math! Maybe with industrial spanks it’ll be okay. Even if not, I can easily add a gusset or two.
I finally got up the nerve to go back into the living room. . .with the dress on. And the sweatpants underneath. John’s mouth dropped onto his chest. He paused the football game. I thought he’d had a stroke. Seriously, I was scared. Then he said, “Wow! You look fantastic in that dress!” Okay then. Done!
So today I am grateful I found a dress for the wedding (That’s not me in the picture, sadly) and more grateful that all of you have endured me through the process. Strap on your seat belt. . .shoes are next! Grrrr!