I spent the day looking for a dress to wear to my mother’s
wedding. Aside from bra shopping and
trying on swimsuits , I can’t think of any other shopping trips more harmful to
my self esteem.
I was hoping to avoid the stores completely. A couple of months ago I purchased a dress
online. I didn't realize that it would
be coming from China. I have nothing
against the Chinese. I enjoy their food,
their checkers and their jump rope. Yes,
I understand most of our clothing is made in china. This is different than ordering a Chinese garment
meant for Chinese people. Here is what I am getting at. I am a taller than average, size 14. In China that is called size “Holy Crap!” Yes, I am an Amazon of epic proportions. I ordered a size up to be safe. It is pretty
and raspberry colored and looked promising when I took it out of the box. I tried it on and it seemed as if it would
fit. Dammit, I hadn’t realized I had ordered a dress with a side zipper.
I have always had trouble with these little bastards. Apparently
my linebacker rib cage is not compatible with my wee tiny plus size dress. The
zipper would not budge, and contrary to popular belief, using every swear word
I could think of in a creative way, was of no help. Back to square one.
The wedding colors are purple, pink and lavender. I was instructed to choose from the color
scheme. Later, my mother told me that
everyone else was going with pastels and urged me to do the same. I have never been a big fan of pastels. All it takes is a photo album from 1987 to
remind me that light pink is a terrible color on a pasty white girl. Actually
that wasn't all it took, but a trip to the fitting room at Macy’s was a good
reminder, and a hefty blow to the ego.
I asked the saleslady for help. She led me to the only lavender dress in
stock. It was perhaps the frumpiest
dress I had ever seen. As far as frump
factor, it was one step away from being a house coat. It looked familiar. I am pretty sure the Rue McClanahan had it
in her repertoire. The saleslady said “I
have this one, I would only recommend it if you were about 30 years older” then
she turned back and said. “No scratch
that, I wouldn’t recommend that to anyone”
I realize that this is a gay wedding but I don’t need to
walk my mother down the aisle looking like a drag queen. At least my mother is
tall, so I won’t feel so gigantic. When I stand next to my adorably petite
Japanese mother in law, I feel like Ru Paul or Gulliver or King Kong. Can you tell I have body image issues? I have
been working on that blog post for a while. Stay tuned.
I tried on a few bright purple dresses. Most of the dresses would be appropriate for
the club scene in Miami or perhaps a
bachelorette party in Belltown. Since I
am not "on the prowl" and I am well above legal drinking age, I thought better of
it. I am 39 years old. There has to be
some middle ground between Forever 21 and Chicos. I want to open a store with kick ass clothes for
people my age and call it Pushing 40. There will not be sassy mini dress or a practical
pant suit in sight.
I recently bought I very cute, hot pink A-line dress so if
nothing better comes along, I will make do with that. I am a bit hesitant. I haven’t worn that much hot pink since a
production of Mame. My costume was about
three sizes to big and three decades too wrong.
I looked like the Kool Aid Man.
If I haven’t burned all the evidence I will post a picture.
It amuses me that the girliest attire that I have ever had
to purchase is for my mom’s wedding. She
spent years trying to get me to wear anything BUT dresses. Wearing a pink dress as a kid was my way of
rebelling. Funny how things have come
full circle.
I just really like this picture...
