Do you remember how I bought this dress to wear to today’s wedding?
And then do you remember how I bought shapewear to help shoehorn myself into that dress? (By the way, Shapewear. SHAPEWEAR. Just hearing those two words smooshed together into one is starting to burn me up on the inside.)
Anyway, this morning I got up, drank coffee, didn’t eat breakfast, took a shower, put on my tights and my SHAPEWEAR (and a robe, because I’m modest), ironed my dress, sausaged it on, and did the whole hair/makeup thing.
I looked terrible. The dress was entirely too confining and was sticking to my tights, the shapewear was making my colon rub a little too closely to my pancreas, I couldn’t find a sweater that pulled everything together, and various other complaints about my hair, earrings, complexion, and so forth. With fifteen minutes to go before we had to leave, I threw on a dress that my mom gave me several years ago along with my Swallowtail shawl and pearl earrings.
AND, the wedding was lovely. The groom, who was just released from the hospital earlier this week, was the perfect blend of nervous and dapper. The bride was glowing and confident. A harpist accompanied the ceremony. Photos were taken. Cupcakes were eaten.
During the break between the ceremony and the lunch, we came home and let the dogs out. (I realize that isn’t vital information, but while I have you here, I thought I would share EVERYTHING.)
We then left and ate salad and spaghetti and spumoni and cake before returning home, where I went to my room to “read for a bit” which is code for “fall dead asleep for two hours.”
And here I sit in my Jackson Hole hoodie, my old black sleeping pants, and my new issue of Whole Living.
When I’m done with the magazine, I’m going to pull out some yarn that looks like hair and knit a beard for a toddler.