Post-natal party dress

I'm in the market for some party dresses, or rather, at least one party dress. I have a few in my closet that should probably see the light of day, but I am a nut for cute things. Mainly dresses. Every woman has a thing, something she can't help acquiring because it makes her feel like a million bucks: shoes, purses, accessories, workout gear, makeup, lingerie, scarves...

I do dresses. And now that I'm no longer pregnant, I salivate over many of them. Whenever I leave the house without Jack, I scour my collection, looking for just the right one to wear. When you leave the house/look nice so infrequently, you really want to make it count.

Below are my current picks for a new party dress. Swoon!

My top contender, as I love shoulder details
and chiffon skirts.

My second choice, because the colour is amazing
and the rose detailing is unique and gorgeous.

This one has an adorable skirt,
but it might need to be shortened at the shoulders.

This is so 1950s, and I love it for that reason.
Slightly too dark, but perfect for fall/winter.

My body is the same size it was pre-pregnancy, but my abdomen ain't lookin' cute. No sir. Most of the skin has receded back to its proper place, but my belly button is still a little large and hollow looking, and I have a pouch of skin above my scar that juts out in an unnatural way. It's shrunk slowly over the past eight weeks, but I don't know if it's done yet. I hope not. I have no way of knowing my recovery is over. This could be it.

The weirdest thing about my tummy is the lack of muscle. There's more there now than there was, but I'm nowhere near what I'd consider normal. Several weeks ago it was so squishy I could poke my finger in and there'd be no resistance. My finger would disappear into the flesh and I would quietly wig out.

Wearing my dresses reminds me I can still be cute, regardless of my messed up figure. I also went out for a me day yesterday and enjoyed a professional blow-out for my still unmanageably thick pregnancy hair. The thick(er) hair I developed during pregnancy still hasn't fallen out yet and I'm at a complete loss as how to wrangle it. For now, it looks awesome, like a hair commercial. But seeing as I can't do that myself, I'll welcome the massive hair loss. I just used the word "hair", like, a million times.

This month marks a year since I got pregnant. And I'm stilllll feeling the after shocks.

Mail Christmas

Today was something like Christmas. Mail Christmas. A couple weeks ago I ordered a board game from the Dude's childhood that he really wanted, The MAD Magazine Game. Today it arrived and it is as foolish and nonsensical as the Dude promised it would be.

The goal of this game is to lose your money. It's the anti-monopoly. You move counter-clockwise, you may only roll with your left hand and the cards are random. Some are only valid on Fridays or if your name has certain letters in them or if you're a girl.

And if your name is Alfred E. Neuman,
you get this if you land on a special square.

Even the board has foolish rules. For example, there's a dead end.

The other mail delight was our Halloween costumes. The Dude is going to be Zoolander's Mugatu (I first wrote Mugato. Apparently that is something else). Mine I'll keep secret because due to my bulbous state and lack of craftiness/inclination, I had limited options. So for fun, I'll reveal that at a later time.

I have one more item arriving to me soon, and that is my winter coat. I picked something that only buttons up halfway and has a lot of room, which struck me as perfect for my current circumstances, but which also could look chic and retro once I've shrunk again.

The colour is pretty much amazing.

Sometimes I feel silly when the mailman brings me yet another package. I'm always home in my pyjamas. I wonder what he thinks I do all day.

Mad Men Woman

I'm on a dress roll. I got my income tax return and after throwing 2/3 of it in savings, I bought some dress fun. I think I may be somewhat Mad Men inspired lately. Observe!

This one came in the mail today. It is a dream.
It's slimming and total '60s charming.

This is what I ordered with my tax refund.
Again, '50-'60s awesomeness and yes, that is a lock and key charm on the belt!

But below I digress in maturity and dive into sweetness with these baby blue dreams of picnics and sock hops. Seriously, how did I spend most of my 20s in jeans pinching my tummy and shirts I got 2 for $20 that were merely okay? Just look at these little numbers:

Buying shoes online can be touchy and reviews are so important for sizing,
but I could be persuaded to do it again for these ladies. Cute!

This is so adorable it breaks my heart.
And if I don't buy it now, I'll be too old tomorrow.

Sweet Nothings

Yeah, it's 3:00 a.m. and I should be in bed. Not being able to sleep stinks. So I changed my blog around a bit. I was kind of over the old design. This is a bit cleaner, more contemporary. And adult.

So, after the show aired, suddenly it was like there was nothing going on. I had spent a solid year planning the wedding. Then there was the show to do, which took up emotional energy and time. Then after the wedding there was still the reveal, then planning our honeymoon, then waiting for the show to air.

It all came with either anxiety or excitement. Once the show aired, there was an abundance of nothing and I was overwhelmed by how ordinary things suddenly were. I had gotten used to feeling like things were immediately impending, with a certain level of worry. And then it was gone. And that made me feel weird and anxious. And then that went away.

And now? Now I'm enjoying the nothingness. I'm finally writing my book, I'm spending time with my friends, playing with the kitties, collecting dresses and seeing movies. It's remarkably pleasant to have such calmness and peacefulness again.

But that doesn't mean there is nothing on the horizon. Other than writing my book, I'm starting a savings plan for a 2013 trip. It'll be a final hurrah before we begin trying for a baby. I'll be 30 then and it'll be time. Emotionally it feels time now, but biologically it would be foolhardy not to get on that when I'm certain I want a family.

One thing we're not going to do is buy a house. We've talked about it extensively and looking at A. Our income, B. Our savings, C. Interest rates presumably going up, and D. Other more detailed extenuating circumstances, it's not in the cards. If we were living in our hometown, we could easily afford a house, something really nice for $200,000 or modest and charming for $175,000. But here in Toronto, where the average house costs $500,000? No.

So we're going to rent. We're going to rent indefinitely. We'll stay here for several more years and when we grow out of it we'll re-examine our finances and the housing market and go from there. We have a space downstairs that can convert into a nursery, we have a yard, and we can afford to save and travel. It's difficult to reconcile not buying a house with feeling financially secure, but times are changing. There's more than one way to achieve success, and a house is not for everyone.

And of course it'd suck to be house poor, which we would be, and not be able to add to my growing dress collection.

I have this dress on the way. w00t!

I heart this. How adorable is it?
No really, it's perfect.

I love this. It's by Knitted Dove, which I'm in love with right now.

No, we're not putting off buying a home so I can be pretty. Ha! But it is a lovely side effect to low housing costs to be able to have nice things.

Dresses and Tea

Tomorrow is a very ladylike day for me. I'm going out with my friends to our regular tea jaunt, and just to sweeten the day with even more gentleness, we're catching the ballet beforehand. It's going to be an afternoon of loveliness.

I've had a cough that's persisted since my wedding. I've gone to a couple movies and I've done my best to suppress it or time its release to convenient moments in the film. At the ballet, I can only hope I don't bother too many people.

I'm currently in love with a number of dresses that I can't have. I can't have them because I can't afford them currently. Why? Well, this laptop I'm typing on was plenty expensive and Christmas is coming.

But here they are anyway:

I love this little dress, but at $100,

it's a wee bit too expensive for me.

This has recently gone on sale.

Once le computer is paid off, it shall be mine.

This happy little number is so retro chic.

It's also on my must-have list.

I think this one was made for me.

Perfect colour and a high waist. Love!

Now this would be an indulgence.

It's a great party dress, but how much wear would I get out of it?

Plus, it's no longer on sale come tomorrow.

I have somewhere in the neighbourhood of 40 dresses. It's taken about three years to build my collection and I can now get away without wearing pants. But considering there's no mix and matching, and they've got to be seasonal, and party dresses are not entirely useable for daily wear, 40 dresses doesn't go as far as you might think.

Hence... I need more dresses. Heee!

Dresses for weddings

Today will be a day of many things, like finishing the floor and making butter tarts. But I put those homey thoughts aside while I mull over dresses.

I was contacted by the show again and they shot me some dates. Looks like my wedding will be at the tail end of the others. I'll be using these shindigs as an excuse to get some new dresses. But alas, I need wedding-appropriate dresses and some of the items on my current wishlist just aren't up to snuff, like this one:

Obviously I can't wear a white dress to a wedding.
But it's so dang cute! No, no, I won't do it.

They say you can't wear red to weddings either. But why? Why?
Up close there's embroidery and I heart that sort of detailing.

This one is more wedding appropriate.
A splash of white is okay, isn't it?

This little number would be perfect,
if it were still in stock.

This dress is the most practical, really.
I'll probably wind up getting it.

I think I have somewhere in the neighbourhood of 35 dresses. I really believe everyone collects something. I know people who collect shoes, scarves, purses, guitars (There's an expensive venture), makeup, pet stuff, bar accessories and all sorts of things they technically don't need. The Dude collects junk he finds on the side of the road. I have my dresses.

Which is funny because I spend so little time, compared to most people, out of my house.

Guide For Online Clothes Shopping

I got some dresses in the mail today. I have well over 30 in my growing collection. Some women like shoes, others like purses or scarves or makeup. Some prefer things for the home. I have my weakness, too. I've held back since wedding planning began, trying to save the monies and all that good jazz.

This one is super sweet. Makes me waist look nice 'n narrow.

This one is quite spiffy.

It's updated '50s housewife with flair. Looks great with a cardigan.

I have had great luck shopping online, not always, especially not at first, but these days I've really hit my stride. I was almost feeling confident enough to buy my wedding dress online, though I did buy my shoes. I have developed a little how-to when it comes to buying clothes online.

1. Only shop on websites that look like they splurged on web design. If their site sucks, it's likely because they're unwilling or unable to pay for quality designers, thus they probably won't have good customer service or inventory.

2. When it's time to pay, the website should be a https:// That means it's secure. I always go with Paypal where it's possible.

3. Don't rely on being able to buy your typical size. Always check the charts. When in doubt, fit your problem area. I have a thicker waist. So I base my size around that when my measurements don't match a size (Which is all the time).

4. Online stores that have customer feedback are safer bets. Always read the reviews on any item you want so you can discover any problem areas in the garment or shoe. Does it fit loose? Are buttons sewn on securely? Is the colour less vibrant in person?

5. Be honest about your body type. I've made errors where I was guilty of wishful thinking and bought a dress that in no way flattered me. Sure, a longer waist and larger breasts would be all well and good, but that's not what nature gave me. I learned my lesson and stuck to higher waisted clothes where the bust seemed ungenerous.

6. Check the web for the actual designers of the clothes you want to buy. Sometimes you can buy them directly and save a little money. Other times it means you won't have to pay as much for shipping. I once bought a swimsuit from the designer directly, and bought a short-waisted prototype she had made earlier and was not planning to sell.

7. Some places don't ship to your country. Find that out first. It's a sad occasion to discover an item you love is not available to you. Make sure you're comfortable with the return policy before making your decision.

8. Find a store you're comfortable with: prices, shipping, fit, quality, delivery speed, policies, style. For me, that's ModCloth. I've bought elsewhere, but I keep returning to my favourite.

Basically, sometimes you wind up making bad choices in the beginning, but if you're dedicated to the cause (unique clothing, avoiding malls) then you can quickly get the hang of it.

I only wish I had some reason to buy this:

Sugar Coated

I never enjoyed hockey as a kid, but it's hard to grow up in this country without developing at least an appreciation for it. And I have. I like hockey, specifically, I like the Leafs. My mother would be proud. My brother, to my father's chagrin, also loves the Leafs. But that's what happens when your son is raised by a Leafs fan.

It's also a sign that winter is coming. Fall in the past always felt like a transition and a blip, kind of like spring feels now. Summer with its blistering, humid heat and winter with its bitter, biting chill seem to be the main events. And I like fall. I like the colours and the cooler air and the food. I love Halloween. But when you grow up wearing snow suits under your costumes and trick or treating in the snow, it's hard to look at the following November as part of the fall season, but now climate change means not seeing any snow until December. And I have mixed feelings about it because it means more lovely fall.

It also means selecting a new winter coat. I've worn the same one for three years, a combination of laziness, frugality, and being very selective, the last one being a newer aspect of my coat shopping. It was frugality in my teens. My mom didn't have a lot of money, and I liked to blow my own money on nonsense. I wore the same damn coat grades 8 through 11. It was Northern Reflections, basic forest green and it was durable, man. That thing really went the distance. I only got rid of it because kids in school were starting to comment on it. You know, teenagers.

Then I wore a coat I loathed and that did nothing for me for about, oh, four or five years. It was gray, shapeless, unfeminine and not terribly cozy. It was bought at a skater-type place when I was still unsuccessfully trying to figuring out my style. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Then I got a sherpa style coat that was so popular in 2003, which was replaced shortly thereafter by a charming red wool coat with toggles.

Oh, that coat... It was a nice little number. Until one fall evening I drank some tequila in the Beaches and on the streetcar ride home I lost my dignity all over it. The Dude woke me up early after I had dozed off en route home. I asked if we were home yet and he said no, we were still 10 minutes away. Then I knew I was going to vomit. So rang went the bell and we waited by the doors. The driver inched and inched closer to the optimal place to stop while the Dude hollered to him to open the doors, for the love of God.

The driver without the love of God or perhaps just minus good sense kept jerking the streetcar forward by inches and left the doors closed. The Dude's warning of you'll be sorry was quickly followed by a cascade of my evening's activities bursting out of my face. The coat was covered in my shame and when we finally piled home we wrapped it up in a bag, where I refused to deal with it for weeks. Coats aren't salvageable after marinating in puke, so that was the end of that.

And since I "retired" that one, I've been wearing a white woolen Guess coat. And it's looking like total ass. It's pilled, buttons have fallen off and I'm just plain sick of it. So here are my current options for winter coat happiness:

This isn't much of an option, as it's way, way too long for me.
But it's super pretty, so up it goes.
It's what I'd get if I were 5'10".

This is just like the coat I lost, only it's a little cuter
and in the back are some spiffy details.

I'm very fond of this one: the colour, the pattern, the buttons.
It's really mod and the empire waist is perfect.

But this current little retro number has won my heart.
It's sold out, but if and when it returns, it's mine!
And if not, I'll get the one above it.

Mail Call

This weekend (as in the one that's just ending) is The Clothing Show. I've been a couple times, mostly with friends, and I love it: the deals, the variety, the treasure hunt that is sample shopping. I've gone alone once, but my heart wasn't in it. Without a buddy to talk you into that adorable dress you're not sure about, or to drag you into a shopping cubicle you ordinarily would avoid but where you find something awesome, it's not quite the same.

I didn't even notice it was coming until it was too late, and so I online-shopped instead for a dress to wear to a wedding I'm going to next month. I never really need an excuse to buy a new dress, but I do so love having a reason. It means getting something less practical for day wear and indulging more in something pretty.

I narrowed it down from these:

Okay, so this is not really wedding appropriate, so I didn't seriously consider it.
But it's sooooo cute. I didn't get it, and now it's all sold out. For the best, though.
I don't really have anywhere to wear something like this.

This was a front-runner for awhile. It's practical in many ways.
I could dress it down really easy, it's neutral coloured, adjustable straps,
and built for a small bust.
But... no. The magic was just not there.

This was my next choice. It's actually polka-dot with a bubble hem,
two subtle details not immediately apparent. The colour is adorable, too.
But it's strapless and bubble hems are not really something you can hem if it's too long,
which on me it could be.

This is my choice. It comes with detachable straps (Obviously not pictured here),
the length is a little short, so on me it should be a bit above the knee, the colours are great,
it's got a high waist and it'll be easy to dress up and down as needed.

I also bought this because when I saw it,
a handful of fun outfit combinations popped into my mind.
It's a real eye-catcher and it'll pair perfectly with basic black tops,
ballet flats and bold accessories.

On top of my happy shopping, I'm also waiting on Halloween costumes in the mail. I'm going to be the Queen of Hearts and the Dude is going to be a scary version of the white rabbit. I'd go with Alice, except I kind of wanted my red hair to work with my costume instead of against it. I had also thought about Pippi Longstocking, Orphan Annie, Raggedy Ann, Jessica Rabbit, Strawberry Shortcake, or Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas. Well, that's not really true. I definitely didn't consider Jessica Rabbit.

I love getting things in the mail, even if it's from myself to myself.

Lady in Red

My red dress came in the mail today. I love it and hate it at the same time. Mostly I hate it because I need to alter it and 90+ of the reviews of the dress say the damn thing fits like a glove. Once it's tailored and hemmed, it'll be a showstopper. As for right now, it makes me look like a little girl playing dress-up in mommy's clothes. The main issues are my height and my bust, and the lack of both.

I have a complicated relationship with the girls. Generally, I like them. They're small enough I don't actually need a bra for support. I only wear it for shape and modesty. Sometimes I don't bother. I can buy the cute bras without worrying about said support or lift. They're not going anywhere. They're as high as they were when I was 20. I like the shape of 'em. No complaints, right?

When you're a small chested woman, you don't feel terribly womanly. Even with all these advantages (bralessness or cute bras and no sagging) you still miss out on things like cleavage, and more importantly... feeling truly like a woman. Men don't look at you as much, you feel inadequate when you can't fill out a special top or dress, and all around you larger chests are celebrated and praised and considered the ideal.

90% of the time I don't let it bother me. Most of the time I focus on what's good about my breasts. I happily think about how they won't be acquainted with my navel when I'm 60. But I'm not 60. I'm 27 and I'm missing out on something fun.

And for all the larger chested women I know who've talked about it, I can tell for all the complaints, they wouldn't trade places with me. I can hear a ring of the pride in their voices. Because there's something inherently sexy about even the most inconveniently large breasts. I see the DD+ club comparing complaints over who has it worse, but under it all it's a pissing contest. When those comments are made in my direction, I know the question is really, "Aren't my breasts big?" I know some women who genuinely want a reduction and have even gone through with it. When you get dents in your shoulders, you have a legit complaint. But I can tell the difference between that and trying to coy about boobie bragging.

There's a woman at my dance class who's often mentioning how much support she needs, and to me. It's like complaining you don't know which vacation house you should summer at this year to someone who rents out a room to live in. I don't understand. Clearly I can't relate. I'm happy for her that she enjoys such bounty up there, but do I really need converse with her about it? I have nothing to offer on the subject. So I reply that I don't need support and only wear bras for aesthetic reasons. (I find that acknowledging my tininess makes these types of women uncomfortable. I don't feel bad about it. Unfortunately, since acquiring this response, it's hard to turn off.)

The kicker is how many women with big breasts like to talk to me about it. Some have gone out of their way to mention it for no apparent reason. Almost like preempting my assumed envy and saying, "It's alright, it's not really all that great." Or maybe it's a way of being smug. Sometimes it feels smug, particularly when the boobs in question are not overly enormous and cannot really be such a nuisance, not when the owner loves showing them off so much.

Sometimes I feel sad when I know women have gotten breast implants. It's like publicly acknowledging an A or B cup's inferiority that had to be corrected. Like there was no way they could be beautiful and this woman just couldn't live like that. We live in a world that sends this message. All my bras save two have padding. And this hasn't been a necessarily conscious effort. They come that way. 9 bras out of 10 have padding, at least they do in the A and B range. Every time I put one on I'm reminded an industry and a culture thinks I'm inadequate the way I am, and by buying and wearing the bra, seems I've decided to agree with them.

I think sometimes to a conversation I had with a close friend of mine in a La Senza, who was shocked to see all the padding in an A-cup bra. "Can't we all just be ourselves?" she asked. Quickly, I replied, "No." And it's true. We can't. Women are walking lies.

We get up in the morning. Our legs and underarms are shaved, our eyebrows tweezed because we're all too hairy. Some women even remove hair from their holiest of holies because nature doesn't know best. We put on makeup because our skin isn't beautiful enough, our lips not red enough, our lashes not long enough. We get our hair coloured because our hair colour isn't right. We put on heels to alter our height and silhouette because it's sexier than being comfortable on flat ground. We put on perfume to mask our natural scent. We wear bras that change the size, shape and lift of our breasts. And then we go shopping and look for things that'll fit our unique body shape and feel like we are the ones who have failed when we don't conform to the shape of a dispensable piece of clothing.

And this is after the feminist revolution and the corset and the girdle.

I posed nude for an art class once. No makeup. No bras, no perfume, no heels, nothing. Just me. For the first time since I started my period, I was just fine the way I was. I got to keep a drawing of myself and I never looked so beautiful or so goddamned free. For the evening, I was liberated.

Monday I take the dress to a tailor.

Frankly, My Dear, I Don't Give a Dress

Today is the sort of day where you get up in the morning and eat croissants. And in the absence of croissants, it's the sort of day your boyfriend goes out in search of some.

It's also a day to browse dresses that currently you cannot afford to buy.

This is my current dream dress.
I quite literally ache for it.

I would love to wear this to a wedding.
Though that's the only place I could see wearing it. But still.

This would be one of those practical buys
that I could wear pretty much everywhere.
Love those polka dots.


And this is obviously not a dress,
but right now I have this adoration for wearing watches as necklaces.

When I was visiting my friend in my hometown last week she asked me how many dresses I owned. Offhand I figured about 15. When I got home I counted them up. 22. 22 dresses. And yet I still feel the need fore more.

I haven't bought a dress from a mainstream store in about a year. It's taken that long to accumulate a unique wardrobe and develop my own look. Growing my hair out has been a part of that, and it's also been a year in the making, at least. Last summer I had decided I was going to make the change and the effort to alter my appearance in this way. It's been a slow, organic process.

Kind of a What Not To Wear sort of change, only less abrupt and on my own dime. But the idea is the same. Love your body by loving how you present it to the world.

I count the days till I can order the red dress. Oh man, how I desire it.

Green with envy

April was a good month. My income tax refund came in and I got an extra pay cheque to play with, one of those delightful things that happens twice a year when you're paid every two weeks. I put some in savings, paid of my credit card, got some new books, and then I bought dresses.
May is back to business. And it's a cold drop back into reality when there are adorable dresses to be had. I was thinking how few shoes I own. I don't care about shoes so much. I like one or two versatile pairs that will go with anything and are easy to slip on. Dresses are what makes my credit card itch. And here are a few lovely girls in green and teal that are singing their siren songs to me:

Luckily for me, this gem is out of stock,
so it's safe from my dress gluttony.

This is one of the most beautiful and flirty dresses I've seen in awhile.
Look at the sash!

This would be the most practical dress of the three,
casual enough for everyday.

The second is my favourite and my first thought was, Oooh! I'm going to a wedding in a couple weeks! But then... it's mostly white and there's kind of a faux pas rule in place about doing that. And considering weddings are the only formal events I attend, this dress would be mostly just to have, rather than to wear. And $130 is a lot to pay for something that will hang out in your closet and make you feel wistful.

Ah, l'amour, l'amour.

I've also started wearing little necklace clocks. They're more fun than watches, which always give me a rash anyway. One is a little owl whose wings open up to a timepiece. The Dude has been calling me Flavor Flav.

Ms. Dress-up

I am a dress whore. I am dress greedy. I have two dresses en route and am already coveting two more, which had I waited two days to order new dresses, I would have made drastically different selections:

Isn't this cute?

Like the sort of thing you'd wear on a picnic.

And...

This dress was out of stock forever.
Of course now that I'd given up on it, it's back up for grabs.

Everyone I know always comments on the fact I am sans pants. Sometimes it's just an observation that I am only ever seen in dresses. Other times it's teasing and mild grief. Mostly it's considered unusual. And I suppose it is. Most women these days enjoy pants.

When I was a little girl, I had a friend who wore dresses every day. I never wore them. Somehow I took it as an affront to my notion of feminism (Yes, I have always been a feminist, even at 8 years old) that a girl would want to wear pants. Of course, that was simplistic feminism (Hey, I was only 8, give me a break), the kind that sends the message we're as good as boys and hence should be doing what they're doing, rather than celebrating what we do differently and making our own choices based on what we actually want.

I gave my little friend the same grief I occasionally get, confused by her lack of pants, and the freedom I associated with them. But she waved me off. She liked dresses, they made her happy, end of story. Nearly 20 years later, I see her point. Sure, in a dress I can't do cartwheels downtown Toronto, nor can I sit with my legs splayed open on the subway, but somehow this doesn't concern me too much. I never could do cartwheels anyway.

I rarely ever wore my kilt in high school. Girls won the right to wear pants while I was in grade nine. In grade 10, I started rocking the pants. I may have worn the kilt a whopping one dozen times for the remainder of my high school career, and I did OAC (grade 13). Mostly I used my kilt as an aide to change into my jeans in the hallway. ***

Incidentally, I've kept the kilt. It definitely does not fit anymore, at least not like it should. Such is life. I bought it on the smaller side to begin with when I was 13 (I'm not sure why I did that to myself), and the need to fit into it I think probably had a big hand in why I was able to continue to do it up until I graduated. Frankly, it was a bloody miracle. I try it on from time to time, to gauge my bodily changes and weight gain. It's like wearing a mother-effing corset.

Had I been the sort of person then that I am now, I would have said to hell with the pants and bought a more practical size that would have gone the distance. Then at least now I'd have a backup cliche Halloween costume each year I get lazy.


*** Going to a Catholic high school means changing into your street clothes as soon as possible after school. Washrooms fill fast. To do away with crowds and waiting around, you change in the hallways. You put your kilt on, take off your school pants, and then put on your jeans. If you're a boy and possess no kilt, either A. haul ass to the bathroom, or B. get comfortable with everyone seeing your underwear. You'd be surprised how many boys chose B. There's an image of purple polka-dot briefs I will never be able to erase from my memory.

PS, I came across this recently and it's a giant dose of WTF, particularly the end of the story. This mother has some serious mental issues. Good luck figuring out life, kid. With a mom like that, you're going to need it.

Figure Happy

So I saw Alice In Wonderland 3D today with McPal and his boyfriend. We had a delicious time. The Cheshire Cat made the movie for me, particularly his attendance at the tea party. It was nice to get out. In particular it was extra nice because a new dress came in the mail today!

This dress is a work of art.
It's the things dreams are made of. *swoon*

I pretty much adore this dress like no one's business. It makes me all curvy 'n stuff. I threw on some brown fishnetty knee socks, black heeled Mary-Janes and hit the town like a sexy secretary. 'Tis also perfect for the height-lacking short-torsoed woman. Life is good.

Every month I treat myself to a new online little number. I'm thinking this one next, which is so very different from all my other more floofy dresses. But it's still mod and retro:

Plus it's got a high waist. Very promising.

Or potentially this adorable cardigan below. You can't see them too well from here, but in the cuffs of the sleeves are thumb holes!
You know, when I stopped fighting my body and trying to wear things I liked on the mannequin or the model, I became more more enthusiastic about fashion. My fashion. My style. I never really paid attention to my figure's quirks, other than the small breast part, because that's not something that escapes your attention. But actually taking a good look at my shape, the one I was born with, my frame, my bones, everything, makes me feel better.

I mean, it's the control thing, right? You think you can manage your appearance totally and so you try. And you invest emotional effort in it, physical effort and time, and denial and tears and worry. After taking stock of everything, most of the stuff I realized I had a beef with was out of my control. Most was nothing diet and exercise would fix for me. Short of drastic or impossible surgery, this was it. It was actually kind of freeing.

I've become a much better shopper for it over time, and a happier woman. That's not to say I don't use clothes to create an illusion about my body. It's just now I know what to buy to create said illusion. You know, rather than being trendy or lazy and hoping for the best and moping over the worst.

My bathing suit is still in the works. Round two at the tailors. It's now the right length and the cups are inserted into the chest, but... the neck strap is too long. Which means the cups are not sitting pretty at my boobies, but weighing heavy on my ribs just below my boobies. I told the seamstress that I was too young for my breasts to sit there. It was a glimpse into the distant future, actually. Grandma tits.

Soon. Soon it will be wearable. And then I can hurry up and wait for summer to come so I can actually wear it.