Weddings are the grown-up equivalent of the prom. And just like the prom, I was ready to go once the dancing started!
When Beefy and I received invitations to his cousin’s black tie wedding, he moaned about renting a tux and I congratulated myself on not donating all my old gowns to the thrift store. I still had this one, from 2002. A few weeks ago, I congratulated myself on still fitting into the dress.
My self-satisfaction only lasted minutes into actually wearing the dress. Once zipped into it, I could not breathe. I struggled through the ceremony and cocktail hour. By the time dinner began in earnest, I had fetched my leather jacket from the car and donned it so that I could unzip the dress to the waist. Breathing (and digestion) is certainly undervalued.
It’s a good thing I don’t care for dancing since I wouldn’t have been able to shimmy with the dress zipped or unzipped. (There would have been dire consequences either way.)
Dress, old. Purse, thrifted vintage. Shoes, Seychelles. Necklace, Banana Republic. Sunglasses, Marc Jacobs. Jacket, BCBG Max Azria (consignment).
I left the dress in the hotel room with a note requesting that it be donated or kept by the finder. I’m not torturing myself like that, again!
Lesson: just because you can fit into a 15-year-old dress does not mean that you should wear it!
P.S. We took these photos in front of Beefy’s high school. Just like if we had been headed to prom.
P.P.S. I’ll buy a new gown for the next black tie event. It will be one I can breathe (and eat) in.