Dress you up...

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Words from a Bird.  Day 132

I had had my clothes on and off more times yesterday than a stripper doing overtime.  You know what it's like when you have a posh night out on the horizon, you vaguely remember the dress you wore some time ago, and in your mind, you're wearing it again.  This happens to me every single time, and it isn't till I try the blooming thing on that I discover it's too small/too long/too wintery/too summery or ripped (that was one hell of a night, I can tell you).

I had planned on wearing a fabulous dress which I wore a few months ago, and it wasn't till I put it on yesterday afternoon that I remembered why I hadn't worn it since.  As it's rather snug (I like that word, much nicer than tight) I am unable to raise my arms more than a 90 degree angle without running the risk of exposing my armpits to all and sundry.  Peephole armpits are not the greatest of looks, so I decided against that one, leaving it on my bedroom floor.

Next up was a dress I bought two years ago, which I have never worn.  A beautiful Ted Baker number, it fitted perfectly and I felt great.  This was until I started looking for a pair of shoes to go with it.  I would have needed a pair of stacked 10" heels to stop myself tripping over the swathes of material around my feet.  I am not on particularly good terms with heels (this is what happens when your husband is not much taller than you) so this dress was also left on the floor.

Then I decided I would go and raid daughter number 2's wardrobe.  Surely she might have something suitable which I could borrow?   Well she had the shoes....to be honest, having checked these out (tried them on, then fell off them) in front of the mirror, I am wondering whether she has an evening job at university somewhere, and I'm not talking about on the till at Tesco.  She had one dress, a strapless number, but unfortunately, it had no straps.   Now I have friends who have the appropriate equipment to keep a dress like this up.  I don't, and would probably have to have resorted to a staple gun and some superglue to stop the dress settling around my navel. Either that, or a pair of braces (suspenders to my lovely American squawkers).

One more dress to try....oh great, broken zip....

So there I was, standing in the middle of my bedroom floor, surrounded by discarded puddles of satin and lace, wringing my hands and wondering what on earth I was going to do.  Short of starving myself for three days, stretching my legs another 10 inches or having a boob job, there was nothing suitable to wear.

So I did what every woman with 'nothing to wear' does.....hit the internet.

May tomorrow bring success...

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