Dress Drama

Found prom dress,  It covers a lot of real estate except for those slippery slopes called shoulders.  Found seamstress (my neighbor, Terryl, who will probably be putting a for sale sign in front of her house if I ask her to do one more thing. . .), but can't find matching fabric.  So, I am home alone worrying about sleeves while Cool Beans is out worrying about boys.  I would put on the dress, take a picture and include it with this post, but you would probably spew because old woman in prom dress is so Uncle Ricoish.

Besides, I tried that once and it didn't work out so well.  Daughter #1 was a few weeks away from getting married.  I had just buried my mother, literally.  Okay, I didn't actually shovel the dirt, but you know what I mean.  I was home alone and a friend stopped by.  We got talking about the wedding and she asked to see the dress.  Seeing it on a hanger wasn't good enough; she wanted to see it on my daughter who was not home.  So in my grief-stricken, numb-minded state, she talked me into putting it on.  At least that's the story I'm going with.

I dropped my clothes on the family room floor and climbed, yes climbed--it was very poofy--into the dress.  We could even zip it up but only because daughter #1 inherited her chest from my sister-in-law Sharee, which is another story. 

But I digress. 

I was standing in a ginormous, puffy marshmallow swirl, when the doorbell rang.

My friend answered the door prepared to tell whichever one of my children's friends it was that whoever they wanted wasn't home.  Because the door is never for me unless it's a salesman or my friend who wants me to try on wedding dresses.

Instead she poked her head around the corner and said, "Jill, it's for you.  It's the stake president (equivalent to a Catholic Bishop).  He and his wife are here to make sure you are e-mo-tion-al-ly sound."  

So, they sat on the couch and I sat across from them looking like a toilette papering job gone bad while I assured them that I was physically, spiritually, and e-mo-tion-al-ly sound. 

So in a nutshell, that is why I won't be trying on the prom dress.

Besides, I'm not really confident about the whole zipper thing because this dress is more of the form-fitting type and not-so-much of the poofy type which was more daughter #1 and #2s' style.  So, in a buttshell, the dress will remain in the closet and my fragile ego will remain in my sweat pants.