It started simply. I'd been feeling frumpy. I blamed it on my growing-out hair and too little exercise. And decided that I could turn this all around by buying a new dress for my cousin Liz's wedding. Silly me.
It was an impulse decision. Up until this point—less than two weeks before the event—I'd been planning to wear the same black dress I'd worn to at least a dozen formal events, and a half-dozen weddings, in the last fifteen years... jazzed up with a new scarf, perhaps, or whatever fun accessories I could steal from my sis. The same black dress I wear to "serious" business meetings with staid corporate clients. I didn't want to wear this dress. I wanted a fun one.
My day job didn't allow time for actual shopping so my sister advised Modcloth and, there, I found an instant winner—a turquoise vintage-y frock, if you will, by the (sort of) same designer in a style very similar to the flattering but summery red one I wore to two weddings this summer. I had no doubt it would fit. Perfectly.
It arrived. I couldn't zip it. And then with the help of Jon and my mom, I could zip it. But barely. And it restricted my ribs. And my lungs just a bit. I flipped. I was angry for deciding to order a new dress at the last minute. Why did I have to be so frivolous!? Why didn't I just wear the tried-and-true-if-boring black dress? I was angry that it didn't fit. It's all that wine-drinking without running, I whined. (Not sure how that would slim me in the ribs but...) But the thing that bothered me the most: I'd have to take the time to return this damn dress. To actually put it back in the box, tape it up and take it to the post-office, less than a mile from work and mail it back. For free. HOW WOULD I EVER DO THIS? Needless to say, I overreacted. A little.
Somehow, after working through all of this, my mom and I ended up at TJ Maxx just before closing. And I bought this:
Dance recitals aside, I have never before worn something like this, which means I do not own any shoes one might consider wearing with it. So I went a step further and purchased tall, strappy heels that I would typically never wear in real life. Because I can't walk in them. Mom and I somehow convinced each other that I looked awesome. I started thinking up the matador-type moves I could on the dance floor. Hell, I might even do a Paso Doble with Jim. Or UB. This was going to be fantastic.
I came home and showed Jon, who simply raised an eyebrow. I sent my sister a text. She did not respond. Jon convinced me to try on the blue dress again. I could zip it all by myself. It was still tight but seemed to have stretched. We agreed that I should take it to the tailor to see if she could let it out, just a bit. And that's just what I did. I pick it up tomorrow. (I also returned the dress above, and the sexy, strappy shoes.)
In the meantime, Jon surprised me with this sweet pendant to wear with the might-fit, or might-not-fit let-out dress. It's labradorite, a shimmery pale blue-green stone that will look just right with teal. Or black, if that's the way things go. Which will be fine because, as it turns out (Jon had no idea), this gemstone is purported to have a calming and harmonizing effect, "making it a very good stone for quick-tempered people."
Sometimes he just knows.