I Shall Be Clothed!

In a weird twist of whatever that probably only happens in my marriage, my husband dragged me dress shopping. I really didn't want to go after my last in-store horror experience, the sting of which was compounded when I ordered two dresses online, from Target.com, which, when they arrived, looked disgusting on me. Actually disgusting. And I was so optimistic, too, while I waited the four days for the package to arrive. When I finally saw it on my door step on Saturday, I tore into and tried on my favorite one. It was watermelon pink, and cut in a way that all the body experts say should be flattering on me. I pulled it on, looked in the mirror and froze in horror.

Mostly because it had pleats on the sides, my hips looked like they each were carrying a baby to term. They were HUGE, and I mean OUT THERE. I yanked it off and tried on the second one; same deal. Ok, so my hips actually are kinda wide (handy when carrying babies and toddlers, not handy when wearing dresses), but the pleats made the effect cartoonish. I ripped off the second one, balled them up and threw them into a shopping bag to return (you can return online orders in the store).

Today Rob dragged me dress shopping. I know, I married the World's Most Amazing Dude. We were picking through the dress section of a department store, and Rob pulled out a little brown knit number, which ended up looked really good on me after I figured out how to get into it. It was a challenge, and the sales ladies yelled at Rob when he tried to walk in to save me. I had to present myself, tangled and nearly naked, to the unfortunately slender good Samaratin in the dressing room next to me, who laughed as she unwove me from the straps. I am so awkward.

I have a dress! No dignity anymore, but a dress! And a husband who goes dress shopping! (How long will this last? I dunno, but I'm enjoying it while I can.)