Dead on My Feet (or MOG Dress Shopping is Not for the Faint of Heart)

OK, I admit I've kind of waited till the last minute to buy a dress for the wedding.  I am Mother of the (gorgeous, dreadlocked) Groom and all eyes will certainly not be fixed on me in less than 2 weeks, but I do want to like the way I look.  I have a sad little history of important occasions matched with dresses  I didn't get to pick for myself, so I'm holding on to my right to shop, it's just that I've left it rather late, giving time as other dust settled.

Yes, much busyness has played a role but, let's be honest, Heather only arrived from Tanzania on Friday and her absence has been a factor.  I might be claiming my right to dress myself, but no self-respecting mother of a teenage girl is really going to make the final choice without that stamp of approval from her fourteen year old female offspring.  I'm not gonna lie-- Heather has to weigh in on this.

So, today started with a rather innocent plan to stop at Nordstrom Rack, Macy's and Anthropologie.  How was I to know it would unfold into a major, day-long operation which saw Byron and Heather bundling seemingly endless selections to my dressing room(s).  May I just say that some of the things they brought me were completely ridiculous?  I appreciate the sentiment that they think I'm slender, but I don't know who they thought some of those things were going to fit.  We hobbled home at the end of the day, bonded, like people who have been through crisis together and survived, and, best of all, we secured a dress!  (Turns out, they're pretty good personal shoppers.)

Well, I've figured out that I'm in a no-woman's-land between youthful and matronly attire.  If I lean toward the cute, younger styles, I immediately look silly.  If I I lean toward the classic, grown up woman styles, I immediately look significantly more boring than I feel.

In the end, I think we hit a happy balance of sorts...  Truth is, I came home with three dresses from which to make the final choice.   (Oh the wonder of the convenient return policies in the States!) You see, the dress is just the beginning.  I now have to factor in where I'm going to land on the Plain&Practical -- Pretty&Painful spectrum of shoes and, after that, I'll need to think about, you know,  earrings and such.  In the end, I'm sure I'll fall somewhere fun but safe on the shoes and wear simple jewelry I already own.  What I really need to think about is if there is time between now and the wedding to learn how to properly apply natural yet amazing looking make-up.  #thingsiwishiknewhowtodo

Wish me luck!

Heather's Perfect Self

Heather is 7 and she’s perfect. Her tummy still rounds out into a beautiful ball, rising in a smooth curve above the top of her jeans. My tummy, on the other hand, hangs rather alarmingly over the top of my jeans. Would that I could sport a big, round tummy as charmingly as she does.

Last weekend we spent a morning on the sand while her brothers surfed Sao Pedro. I drank coffee with Carey in the cafe, enjoying the view of our kids as they enjoyed a Saturday morning session. Heather chased the waves up and down the beach with Christian.

Later on, as I made tea in the kitchen at home, Heather was still running around in her swimsuit. Pulling it up so that most of her squidgy cheeks hung out below, she asked,

“Why do some girls wear their suits like this?”

“I don’t know,” I sort of sighed, “it doesn’t look very comfortable does it?”

“It’s like they’re walking around saying, ‘Look at MY butt! Look at MY butt! It’s SO great!”

I turned toward the stove to hide my laugh.

“THAT,” I thought, “is EXACTLY what they are saying!”

Several years ago, when Heather was about three, she was running around the house with not much on. I directed her father’s attention toward the dimply little bum.

“Proof positive,” I said. “That is the female body in pristine form and there is cellulite on those cheeks. The female bottom is SUPPOSED to have cellulite!” I exclaimed.

I’m not sure he was entirely convinced….but I was.

I can’t claim to be the proud occupant of a pristine body, but I wear my dimples with pride.

Thanks, Heather :-)