Thursday, November 15, 2007


Yesterday afternoon I ran over to Ann Taylor Loft to look at a dress. I saw this dress in an ad in Real Simple (love love love that magazine) and even though I could only see part of it, I had one of those instant epiphanies. "That's it! That's the dress!"

I am not a Dress Girl. I have never, ever been a Dress Girl. If you discount all the frilly little girl dresses my mom put me in before I could talk (and shout, "no!"), I could probably count the number of dresses I've owned on both hands, and that includes the five weddings I've been in (one being my own, where I got to wear The Mother of All Dresses, complete with a big poofy butt-bow just for M).

Recently I thought about becoming a Dress Girl. Dress Girls have it easy. They always look good. Put together. Feminine. Dresses work for almost any occasion, because there are adorable little sun dresses and long, elegant dresses and everything in between. Besides, every girl should have a LBD (little black dress). My last LBD was purchased when I was in college and not only do I know it wouldn't fit anymore, I doubt I could even find it. It may very well be hanging in my mom's closet, as it was such a versatile LBD that we shared it often.

So, this summer, I tried to become a Dress Girl. I went shopping with a friend and I tried on dress after dress after dress. I learned one thing: dresses are not made for curvy girls. Most dresses are designed to be worn by twigs, which I most certainly am not. Even in the best shape of my life I was not a twig. I have The Girls on top, which thankfully sort of balance out the big ol' hippos down below. I could lose virtually every ounce of body fat and still have those two areas of wobbly bits.

Wobbly bits, in case you're wondering, are so not flattering in a dress. Well, they're not flattering anywhere, really, but with good, tailored pants you can camouflage a lot.

Well, we've got some special events coming up, namely, weddings. After 10 years of being the only married cousins on M's side of the family, we're about to be joined in holy matrimony by not one, not two, but three cousins. That's not to say that we are marrying them. This isn't Arkansas, you know. Anyway, I decided that I really, really want to wear dresses to the weddings. Everyone's going to be all dolled up and glam, and I don't want to be boring Pant-Suit Girl yet again. I want to be flirty and fun, dammit.

So off I went yesterday to Loft with my favorite shopping buddy who is brutally honest and supportive at the same time, and we tried on The Dress. Okay, I tried it on while she waited outside the dressing room and drank her Starbucks. It would have looked rather silly had both of us tried to get in the dress at the same time. Anyway, it not only fits, it looks fantastic, if I do say so myself. Wahooo!

Since I was on a dress high from that success, I tried on another one. It didn't look awful, but I could have used one size up. They didn't have any 12s, so I had tried on the 10. It was just snug enough that it wasn't completely flattering, but holy cow did it feel good to easily get the zipper up on a size 10. 10! To put my glee in perspective, let me share with you that the khaki shorts I purchased for myself just last summer are size 16. I'm pretty sure come next summer I'm going to have to go shopping for new shorts. I haven't been a 10 since around college, so I'm feeling pretty proud.

That thought helped when I froze my tuchis off on the way to the gym at 5:25 this morning.


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