Ooh! Am very, very pleased. Bought this cute little sparkly number yesterday, complete with new black pashmina, shoes, necklace, and genuine imitation diamond earrings. Had been under the weather for quite some time, and felt a desperate need for some comfort, not to mention something to wear to a wedding in two weeks.
The problem with buying cute little sparkly numbers is that I tend to like them in the store. I like them when I get them home. My husband likes them when I model them
for him. But then when I go to wear them in public, I can’t stop fidgeting with them. I’m constantly whispering to my husband, in a very annoying fashion, “Is this skirt too short? Can you see my fat bits hanging out? Is this cut too low? Look, can we just run home so I can change?”
Fortunately, if I become shy in my cute little sparkly number, I can simply wrap the pashmina around myself several times, so that I look like a big black burrito with nice new shoes and genuine imitation diamond earrings.
One problem with living in a small town is this: there is a severely limited number of party dresses available. Yesterday I saw the most fantastic dress downtown, but when the saleslady, seeing the avaricious gleam in my eye, said, “Would you like to try this one on?” I had to say, regretfully, “No, one of my best friends already has that, and we’ll be at the same parties all winter.” So, basically, a girl is limited to whatever is available in her size and whatever she hasn’t seen her friends in yet.
Anyway. Now I’m babbling.
USF: don’t even think about drawing parallels between this inane post and my eulogy. It’s coming, I tell you!
