So we’ve got this big fancy family wedding coming up.
The girls have their $250 (all gasp with me now) dresses to wear (they are flower girls). The small boy has a dashing new shirt and pants (though I think I might buy him a different shirt to wear, still can’t decide). The Baldy Boy gets off easy – the suit he got married in works a treat for both weddings and funerals. That just leaves me.
Me and No. 20 on my list.
20. Buy and wear a really nice dress.
Just the thought of the above makes me want to vomit.
It’s not just because dresses and I haven’t been on speaking terms since I was in school and forced to wear one as part of the uniform. Sure, I’d be much more comfortable in a pair of jeans a t-shirt and an old cardigan, but I’m in this for the love of a favourite in-law and I’m willing to play along and frock up. Well I would be… if I could find a half decent frock.
I’m not really built to wear a dress, or at least to wear one and not look pregnant. Which would be fine, the looking pregnant part….if I was pregnant … but I’m not… pregnant that is. (You can stop having a heart attack now Mum.) I just carry all that extra weight around my middle… my middle and of late in my arms.
What is with that? The fat arm thing? It’s a getting old thing isn’t it? You can tell me… I’m half way to 37, I can face it… I think.
And not just my arms but my arm pits. I have little pudges of fat next to my arm pits… side boobies. Like I need any more boobage… I have enough of those where they are meant to be thanks very much.
So yes… combine the spare tyre around the middle with the side boobies and dress shopping was never going to be fun.
What really takes the cake though… what is making me want to toss it all in and just rock up in my faded jeans…. it’s what passes as fashion at the moment.
Ok I can accept that I am not (nor have I ever been) going to fit into a dress designed for the hip and groovey 16-25 crowd. Pencil thin straight dresses were never going to work for me…. that’s ok. So what does that leave me? Floral Moo Moos and strapless numbers, or the good old ‘capped sleeve are you sure you’re not pregnant’ kind of dress.
The options were already limited in the ‘hip, older but not old foogey yet’ kind of stores and now the few that there are are filled with these hideous floral patterns in royal blue and emerald green, ala my grandmother in 1980! I saw a dress on the weekend that actually had bat wing arms… actual flowing fabric coming from the sleeves! Are you kidding me??
I did try on one dress. It was black, because it seems if you can’t fit into the stick figure dresses you have no choice but to try and hide in drab black. It was just below the knee, because again, if you are not a stick figure you have to wear a dress of this daggy no length length. It had kind of frilly ruffles from under my boobs… it looked better than I am making it sound, but…. it had strangely cut arm holes… and my side boobs were hanging out, majorly hanging out. So not only will I have to buy a dress, I’ll have to buy a black bra (no I don’t already own one), pantihose (kill me now) shoes (unless I can get away with the black heels I may have worn once about ten years ago) AND a cardigan or something to hide my side boobs. AND… the dress was SO boring.
I need some style…. I so need some style, some flair… I need something. I need someone to wave a magic wand and make me look good in something. I don’t want or even need to look skinny, I am learning to accept the bulges and extra bits, I just want to look nice, and feel good… and look just a little funky.
The wedding is July 4th… What do you think of my chances are of whipping No. 20’s butt before then???