Next Friday, VH is taking me out to celebrate my 40th birthday. The only thing I’m allowed to know is that we’re starting at the New Theatre Restaurant, where we’ll be catching a performance by Jamie Farr in Busybody. How we’ll manage to accomplish this, when we don’t even have a babysitter, is apparently none of my business. In fact, he only told me where we were going so I wouldn’t freak out over what to wear.

Not that it helped.

Like all women, I have a closet full of clothes and absolutely nothing to wear. No, I mean that. I have jeans that are too tight, jeans that are too long, jeans that are just right but with broken zippers, and jeans that are just right but have to be paired with particular blouses. Ditto for my skirts, which are even more difficult to pair with just the right blouse. Some are too warm for summer, some too thin for air-conditioning and of the few that actually pass muster, most are either missing a button, have a snag or stain, or are far too casual to wear for a nice night out. As for my dresses, well, my single dress, it’s a leftover from maternity days. Terribly comfy, but certainly not something to wear out of the house.

Since becoming a stay-at-home mom, I just haven’t needed nice togs. My daily ensemble typically consists of yoga pants and 80s-style ripped-neck sweatshirts over tank tops until shortly before VH gets home, at which point I switch into khaki capris and a clean t-shirt. Or PJs. It just kind of depends on how our home-schooling day went.

On top of that, my niece is getting married at the end of the month. I’m pretty certain she won’t want me to show up in shorts and a t-shirt, so that meant I’d need a second nice outfit, as well. Unfortunately, I can’t really justify buying shoes to go with each: I’ve got a rack full of them and, since I’m barefoot more often than not, all of my shoes are in near-perfect condition. Same goes with my earrings and purses.

I needed two dresses and, given how little I know I’ll wear them in the next couple of years, I didn’t want to blow the bank on them even if for once — for once — I had a reason to go shopping that was so legitimate VH couldn’t complain. So, despite my credit card whispering to me from the dark confines of my purse, I remained mindful of the fact that back at the house, VH is still painting and that I’d be pushing things too far if I went on any kind of a shopping spree.

So what happened? I walked into the store, saw two dresses I liked, tried them on and they fit perfectly. Perhaps that was due to the 5 pounds of water I lost as I stood crying in front of the awful, awful tri-fold mirrors they put in clothing stores, perfectly situated under harsh overhead lights so that each ripple and wobbly part stands out in stark relief. After seeing myself in my granny panties and architecturally-sound matching bra, there really was no way I wouldn’t like how I looked once clothed, was there?

The grand total: $100.01, which meant I didn’t even have to use the credit card after all. Heck, I still had $19.99 left of my allowance and, lucky me, vodka was on sale at the liquor store.

Next time I think I’ll pick up the vodka before trying on clothes.

Saturday, June 2nd, 2007, 6:22 pm   |   Martini Madness, My Venomous Life  |  RSS feed Comments and pings are currently closed.