My original text to my sister was this: is it too late to wear white pants to a wedding? (I generally stick to the hard-and-fast after Labor Day Rule for wearing white--and I used to for open-toed shoes but have discovered that open-toed shoes are becoming a year-round thing now, so I decided perhaps I could broader my horizon re: white after Labor Day, too, but I knew as I was texting that I couldn't do it, I just couldn't. Coco Chanel would probably be very proud of me.). When she texted back, though, she said she probably wouldn't wear pants to a wedding. Oops. Cause I just did a couple of weekends ago, but who needs to go back and be full of regrets on the wardrobe front? Besides, pants are like a staple in my closet. I don't do many dresses. Perhaps I should spend more time in the dress department, but honestly, I get invited to about .00001 weddings a year, and I don't typically wear dressy dresses otherwise. Regardless, this particular text about not wearing pants threw me into somewhat of a tizzy. Now I have to go back to the Closet of Pants and find a dress, because I certainly cannot wear pants. What would people think?? Okay, okay, so the bride and groom probably won't notice what I'm wearing...and their parents won't either...and all the Suits in the room are typically oblivious to Rules (pants versus dresses, that is)...but the ladies will notice. And if all the ladies out there were really honest with themselves, then perhaps we could all agree on this one thing: When we dress, we dress to impress. Other women, that is. And when we know we have every single other woman in the room beat down by our stunning wardrobe AND our unmatchable beauty, then we can be comfortable. Maybe I'm wrong and it's just me, and in that case, you probably don't want to hang out with me anymore...
So I texted her (that being my sister) a few dress choices from my closet, one of them being WHITE, I don't even know what in the world I was thinking, because YOU CANNOT WEAR WHITE TO A WEDDING. Unless you happen to be the bride, which I'm not. Cardinal rule, like my sister said. Duh. Anyway, she liked both the non-white options, and added a couple of suggestions. And I thought When did I become so helpless that I cannot even put together a simple outfit?? So I had to ask my husband this morning. "Which dress? Which dress? WHICH DRESS?" Because this is probably the most important thing that has ever happened, ever, and it requires emergency status and everyone needs to drop whatever they are doing to HELP ME DECIDE.
|And in case you're wondering, I'm looking perturbed in these pictures because my daughter was supposed to be taking pictures of me but instead she was playing around and she kept disappearing, only to reappear and SNAP! with no warning. Annoying.|
When I mentioned to him (my hubby, that is) that I was considering going to get a spray tan today, he cocked his head to the side and looked at me for a minute before asking me if I had ever read my very own blog before. Which I of course denied, because that would mean that I would have to realize that spray tans, perfect dresses and beating the competition aren't what I'm about at all. Or maybe it is what I'm about but it's not what I want to be about. Either way, I knew he had me, and my first thought was A) DANGIT, Mr. Sensibility, how is it that you are ALWAYS RIGHT? And B) I'm glad I didn't mention the Spanx I was going to look for and the fact that I was going to go get my nails did. Or that after I put in that black strapless number, I was seriously considering asking for breast augmentation for Christmas.
After some thought about how I want to spend my time, money and the messages I want to send, I decided against going to look for Spanx (for now. This girl tends to freak out at the last minute and change her mind), getting my nails done and getting a spray tan. Instead, I painted my own nails, used my own self-tanner (hey, L'oreal, could you please make a stink-free version? I smell like a tanning booth, and not in a good way)...and that ultimately it's okay to not be perfect. I may get to my toes and not my fingers...and it's okay. I may look a little pale...and it's okay. I mean, I want to be the best me I can be, so I put effort into my appearance, but sometimes it's hard for me to not go overboard and become obsessive. Regardless of what I ultimately look like for this wedding, I decided I would borrow a line from One Direction (#1 at $15 million??? Who saw that coming?):