First off, save the jokes about the whole “virgin bride” thing. It’s overplayed and I expect better from you.
JK! LOL! Emoticon that shows that I really love you for reading this and think you can make any joke you want as long as you don’t unsubscribe to my blog.
Oh man I’m tired…
I have an adorable white dress that I got last August as the summer was ending. As Chicago is the kind of town where winter can start in September, I’ve only worn it once and only for a small part of that day.
For some people wearing white may not be a risk. But for someone like me, it’s a recipe for a constant bubbling stew of worry, complete with anxiety ridden meals and painstakingly chosen CTA seats. (CTA stands for Chicago Transit Authority or the “El”, which stands for Elevated, which is our train system, which you can learn more about by reading the Day 16 Risk. I guess I could have just said “train seats”.)
I am a klutz. It’s an inherited trait, passed down from my mother to me that includes a loving tendency to spill food items all down the front of shirts (we call our boobs “shelves” because they seem to catch every crumb and drip) and sprain our ankles doing the ever so intense and demanding act of walking. I also have a tradition of falling down and tripping every chance I get, something my husband likes to point out just when I think I’ve reached a status of put together. At least I don’t have far to fall.
Add to all of this the Invisibility Factor. The Invisibility Factor is not some crazy new Harry Potter reference (if you don’t get this, I must beg you to read the books. Or at least check out the flicks. I promise they are great) but rather a phenomenon where you fall in love with something white at a store, try it on even to find the right fit only to step out of the masking lights of a dressing room and into daylight to discover that every random on the street can see the outline of your panties. Somehow this always happens to me.
As a result of these factors and gross CTA seats wearing white for someone like me is not the most intelligent thing to do. But I love the look of white summer dresses. There is something so elegant and classy about them, two things that I strive for in great earnest only to end up falling closer to awkward and goofy. My thought is wearing this dress will give me the illusion of elegance and classiness, which is about as close as I can hope for.
Today was a particularly risky day for wearing white as well because I was flying home. God only knows the kinds of nasty floating around airplane cabins and if you happen to be God and know what floats around airplane cabins please don’t tell me. I prefer my ignorance.
So imagine my surprise when I inspected my dress when I got home from work to discover very little other than gleaming white. Sure there’s the dribble of tan from spilling coffee down my boob and yes that’s a tomato seed stuck to the lap from lunch, but other than some lint, I’m in the clear!! And no see through! A white that’s not see through!! Life seemed to fall into place.
Now if I could just master the art of the white bathing suit. Only then can I truly reach my ambitious goal of looking like I belong on a yacht. I really want a yacht…