We went to my husband's work Christmas party tonight. I did not think I would have fun. First, I put on my pantyhose and realized that at some point, someone (and by someone I am pretty sure I mean the dumb demon dog) decided that what I really needed were CROTCHLESS pantyhose. So, awesome. Then I put on the skirt I wanted to wear. It zipped, but it would be an exaggeration to say that it fit. Unless the rules of fit are different now, and a camel toe is a good thing. A camel toe in a skirt. This is basically the same story for the rest of the skirts that I put on. And 2/3 of the pants. Apparently, my ass has been sneaking around behind my back and has taken on Kardashian proportions. Too bad my boobs never get in on the fat gaining action. I might not mind being fat if I at least had a slightly more impressive rack. It doesn't even have to be impressive. Just slightly more impressive than what I have. Which wouldn't require much, since I can comfortably shop in the training bra aisle. Seriously, bras in my size almost ALL come with serious padding, like it is trying to make me feel better about my non-existent breasts. "It's okay," they seem to say, "no one has to know you don't really have boobs. Unless they bump into you and the padding leaves a bruise or something."
I finally put together some outfit that I am sure screamed "I HAVE NO CLOTHES THAT FIT!!!" But I really had no choice since I haven't tried any of these clothes on since last year.
Then my husband calls me 8 times to see where I am, and decides that maybe he needs to meet me somewhere because I sound "confused" about where I am. Which pissed me off because I knew exactly where I was. He just didn't know where I was. If you follow. So I get there. Without his help. Like a big girl who even knows how to dress herself and everything. And it's a business-y finance-y thing, and I am used to these and I never have anyone to talk to because what I understand about stocks can be summed up as, "People trying to guess what pretend thing might happen to make pretend money happen or something" and what I know about bonds can be summed up as "..." and what I know about taxes can be summed up as "we have an accountant to know that for me".
HOWEVER. Three things made this night AWESOME.
1. My husband and two co-workers killing at karaoke. You've lost that loving feeling, indeed.
2. Other non-banky people who were girls! Who were close to my age.
3. I don't have to work tomorrow because he and I are taking a 3 day weekend for his birthday. We aren't doing anything, necessarily, but we have time off. Yay!
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"It's okay," they seem to say, "no one has to know you don't really have boobs. Unless they bump into you and the padding leaves a bruise or something."
ReplyDeleteFANTASTIC.
I'm currently deciding how long it's OK to hold onto my entire wardrobe of clothes I haven't been able to fit into for a year. A YEAR. Eff. I see a new year's resolution coming on.
ReplyDeleteI HATE THOSE.
However: Yay for karaoke!
How do you get a cameltoe in a skirt? You know what, never mind, don't answer that.
ReplyDeleteI understand this.
ReplyDeleteI am one of those rare women who says "I have nothing to wear"... and actually means it. And then has to go do laundry.
I think we have the same body.
ReplyDelete