I had been going back and forth about whether I wanted to actually tell this story, but I figure an embarrassing story is better than yet another picture or video post so here it goes. Also I should note, this story is dedicated to Maverick who is currently in the running for most patient man on the planet.
It all started this past May when Maverick and I were in California. We were waiting in line to purchase tickets to see the La Brea Tar Pit Museum
(which was not at all the musuem we had wanted to go to but whatever it was cool anyway) When the Mav got a text message from his mother informing him that his cousin would be getting married July 27th and that we were both invited. Maverick was quick to tell me that it was going to be casual and that “Everyone is gonna wear jeans.”
To which I may have scrunched up my nose and been like “Um, I am not going to wear jeans to your cousin’s wedding?”
to which he sighed and said “Well I think if you don’t you’ll be the only one.”
Anyway, a month or so later upon further clarification from his mom, Maverick informed me that the men would wear jeans to this wedding and that women should wear sundresses.
OH MOTHER FUCKING SUNDRESSES AM I RIGHT?!
I have a theory that certain clothing items, like winter coats, rain boots, and sundresses, are for some reason only available in stores when you need them least. Or maybe I’m the only one who realizes in winter that they need a new winter coat and innocently walk into Macy’s in February only to see racks and racks of swim suits.
Retail Fashion, that shit is Topsy Turvy I’m telling you.
I casually mentioned to Maverick that I was going to go shopping for a dress for his cousin’s wedding and he was like, “Um, don’t you already have a ton of dresses?”
Sigh. It’s just like, for a guy who likes the movie Mean Girls so much you’d think he’d understand.
OMG I love your skirt!
Anyway, let’s be real. Maverick was right. I have plenty of casual summer dresses. Are any of my dresses I own a “sundress?” (Which in my mind has to be made of a semi-structured cotton and be a certain cut: a-line and length: above or just to the knee?) Nope, I have not a single sundress in my closet
Say it enough times and it begins to sound like a criminal charge.
Then I remembered I did have a sundress, it was purple and cute and I wore it for graduation of college and I remember specifically justifying the cost at the time by saying “I’m probably going to have to start going to weddings soon so I will probably wear this again.”
It was so cute! So purple and fulfilled my little Jew dreams of pastel easter finery! (breakthrough: we just figured out why I don’t own any sundresses. Ugh. Those damn catholics get it all.)
But I couldn’t find the dress. So I continued searching stores half-assedly while thinking this one would eventually show up and of course it did.
And with great excitement I put it on!
And discovered it was now way too big.
Which I suppose is a good thing. Because I ate a lot of crap food in college, so maybe some of that UMass weight is leaving.
So, I remember when I bought the dress I had to go a size up to accommodate the chestal area. Even though it was a 10 where I would normally wear an 8 or 6, it fit well enough. I had bought the dress intending to get it tailored but in the end must have run out of time or money or both and just ended up wearing it, with that little sweater to cover the fact that the straps were too big. When I put it on the other night it looked sadly like a potato sack.
The dress is Nine West, wasn’t cheap, and fits only in the boobs. Someday I’ll remember to take it to the tailor to be altered. Probably moments before my next special event which requires a sundress.
I didn’t have enough time to get it altered so on my day off this past Wednesday I went with Linda shopping downtown.
In TJ Maxx I found (what I thought to be a gorgeous dress.)
Let the record show it wasn’t a sundress. It was a “summer dress.” It treaded the line of casual and fancy (which is honestly where I’m happiest anyway) and it made my waist line look incredible. It was also hot pink, a color I don’t normally wear but I thought it looked so fun and the cut was so flattering I decided to buy it. And I walked around repeating over and over that if I just wore it with confidence nobody would care if I was a little over-dressed.
Then, that night I went to Maverick’s for dinner and put the dress on to show him. I asked him to take a picture of the dress and send it to his sister to see if it was casual enough. The second I saw the picture he had taken of me in the dress my enamor wore off. Which makes no sense at all but hey I have little explanation. I had loved what I saw in the mirror but then I saw the picture and suddenly I didn’t love it anymore. And I feel sad typing this because this is not at all the person I want to be.
I decided in the end the dress was too formal. I felt nervous again about what the heck I was going to wear. I felt all my current dresses were either too casual or showed too much cleavage for a family event.
And, I mean…also….
This is the part where I need your help, to tell me in the comment’s section I’m not crazy because like…
Not having what you feel to be the proper outfit to wear to an event is a crappy feeling, right?
Anyway, I wasn’t going to stress too much about it. We had a delicious dinner and then went downtown and enjoyed the weather, walking through the park etc. We ended the night at bar where we were supposed to meet Maverick’s roommate for reggae night. He took a while to show up though and when he finally did I was 1.5 drinks in. By the time we made it home I was drunk, no other way to describe it. Those pesky two cocktails had done me in.
I lay down on Mav’s bed and somehow, suddenly, got so sad about the dress. Before I knew it tears were spilling out of my face in that sort of “once you start you can’t stop” sort of cry. And Maverick very calmly tried to ask what was wrong and I answered by going on and on about the dresses and how upset I was and all but having a tantrum.
Poor Mav. Poor Mav tried to reassure me that it would be fine. that nobody would care what I wear. He even went so far as to say that I wasn’t crying about the dress.
I mean, I was crying about the dress. But also, I wasn’t. I was crying because I have a hard time finding clothes that fit me and that makes me upset and maybe I feel like if I just worked out more or ate less cheese then magically my bones would shrink and straighten out the curves and my boobs would disappear and I’d have a six pack and then magically I’d find tops and pants and skirts and dresses raining from the sky onto my perfect body.
“I don’t like seeing you get down on yourself.” He said.
I don’t like it either.
Not one bit.