I took the kids to the pool today, which means that I go to my water aerobics class, then get the short people (and Chicken to help) and play for another hour. I came home and slept. I was supposed to take Chicken shopping for a dress for her friend’s Quincinara (sic) and I went to get myself something to wear. Now, this was the second time i went looking for an outfit expressly for a specific occasion, and for a moment I was a little disgusted. Wasn’t it possible I had something to wear that would cover a trip to church (where, Goddess be with me, the saints won’t weep as Chicken and I walk our pagan asses through the door) and a reception with dinner and dancing.
As it turns out, nothing that I’ve purchased in the last six years would actually fit that bill. I had plenty of dark stuff, going out on a night out stuff and that was nice. I had lots of jeans and work-shirt sort of stuff. I even had that nice outfit I bought to go to the class reunion. But none of it was good for a religious celebration for a fifteen year old girl.
Who knew I’d actually get the nuances of fashion, finally, at age 43 (two sir!) 42?
So, there I was, alone in the changing cubicle with my fat and sorry ass from three different angles, and I threw on my first dress choice, and came to two conclusions:
A. I’d burnt the shit out of myself–I looked like a big, fat, juicy lobster tail, complete with sweat.
B. No part of my self awareness of either my size or my bodily composition had prepared me for the gi-fucking-normousness of my biker-bitch body in a turquoise flowered dress. That thing had to fucking go, or people would be fainting and calling for God as I walked down the aisles to sit in the pew.
I put the dress back and got a salmon colored fancy T-shirt (the better to match the color of my face, thank you!) and a black cotton skirt. And now I’ve officially spent my limit in clothes–the next thing I can purchase is the plotbunny T-shirt for yaoicon–and only if I skip a trip to the yarn store between now and October. Oh yeah- and maybe a bra that doesn’t have clasps that extend backward.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t spring for some luxuries, like, say, a trash basket for the FUNCTIONING BATHROOM! Okay– functioning is sort of an overstatement. I bought the trash can because we can’t afford the vanity–we might have, but we shot too much money on killing the cat and buying clothes for a birthday party the size of a medium sized wedding. But, as soon as we can afford the vanity, that puppy’s going in–and right now, we’re a two toilet, two shower household, and, cannyagimmehallelujia-amen, that shower has a bathtub. Yeeha! And let’s hear it for avocado green! (Which, I swear, did not look avocado green when I chose the color three years ago. And, will probably not look like avocado green when we add the dark lavender trim. I hope.) Anyway, let’s hear it for Mate and home improvement… he missed the four year mark by three months!
And besides forgetting my wallet at home for our first stop (Bath & Body Works, for Lily’s gift–because Chicken and I have NO imagination and I started knitting the ribbon-drawstring bag too late to finish it tonight) and feeling like a total dork–that’s all I got. Oh yeah– I went a little nuts with the tester while I was in there–but I got to tell you… that White Cotton body spray really does flip my switch… mmmmmmmmm….
I’m gonna go pass out and smell myself–it’s a big day tomorrow! Us pagan girls is goin’ to church!
