Out on the Town

Last month David and I went to an evening wedding for a friend of his. For some reason, I didn't plan out at all what I was going to wear until about an hour beforehand. The invitations mentioned something about "evening wear". Evening wear? To me, "evening wear" means pajama bottoms and one of David's shirts. I deduced that attire would be frowned upon at a formal function. I ended up grabbing the only dress that fit me, a long, brown, sleeveless floral number with a beige linen jacket. I thought I looked halfway decent until we actually got to the wedding and I saw all the ladies dressed in evening gowns and cute little cocktail dresses.

I just sat there feeling frumpy and old. I have never scored too high on fashion sense, but this was the last straw. I mulled it over for a few days before bringing it up with David. "I just looked plain frumpy at that wedding." I approached him one evening. He really is the sweetest little thing sometimes and responded with, "You know honey...why don't you go out and buy 2 really nice outfits you can wear out on the town. One for summertime, and for wintertime." How sweet. Of course, I had to read between the lines and exclaim, "So you thought I looked frumpy too!!".

I chalked my poor outfit choice up to my inexperience with picking evening wear and vowed to find something suitable to wear out on the town to make me look suave and sophisticated, not like a tired 30 year old mother of 3. That was going to be hard for me.

After weeks of hinting to David that I am a neglected housewife, he finally announced that he was taking me out on a date this weekend. WOO HOO! I am so psyched. (Is that still a word people use? Or did that, like most of my wardrobe, go out with the eighties?). In anticipation of our upcoming night out, I decided it was as good a time as any to buy one of my new hip outfits. David gave me just one instruction...."Don't go to any of the stores you usually go to either. Go to a nice store that I would pick for my clothes."

I was only gone a short while this evening when I found a great little black number that's really fancy looking. (If I'm brave, I may post pictures after this weekend). I went back and forth between 2 sizes in the dressing room. The medium was a tad snug, but the large was a bit loose, so hoping that my weight doesn't go in the upward direction again any time soon, I went ahead and got the medium.

I wanted to wait and "WOW" David on our date night. But I went ahead and tried it on for him when I got home for a second opinion so I would have time to exchange it if need be. The girls both followed me upstairs to watch me try on my "pretty" (as they call dresses, nightgowns, etc.). As soon as I put it on, they both started exclaiming how beautiful it was. "Let me marry you," Drue kept repeating, "Let me marry you."

David's reaction wasn't quite what I was hoping for. In my mind I envisioned his jaw dropping to the floor, awed and speechless at the beauty he beheld. Not quite. He looked up, and because he could sense that he needed to say something, he simply said, "Yeah, honey, that looks nice. Turn around."

"It's a tad tight," I said and went on to explain my rationale for getting the medium. "I'll have to get something to hold everything in down there," pointing to my stomach region. "Well, let me see," he said. "Relax yourself and stand as you normally would." "I CAN'T RELAX MYSELF!! IF I DO, IT LOOKS LIKE 2 HIPPOS ARE FIGHTING UNDER MY DRESS!!!". (Changing up the words to the Steel Magnolias quote about the lady who wasn't wearing a girdle and looked like 2 pigs were fighting under a blanket). I stormed upstairs to take it off.

Reese followed me into our bedroom and said in her sweet little encouraging tone, "Mommy, the dress looks fine. There aren't 2 hippos under there....it's just your belly."

Great....that makes me feel SO much better.