I’m about to chicken out again.
You see, my goal of our trip to Surrey in April was to find a dress for my cousin’s wedding at the end of this month. I mean, you’d think I’d like one dress in all of metropolitan Vancouver. Apparently not. I did find one dress. It played up the feature I always like to play up — my narrow waist. I liked the dress. But it was just so obviously a dress. I should’ve taken a picture of myself in it, but I didn’t. It was brown. Cotton with threading or stitching or something (Lauralea could explain it better). Tanktop style, fitted under the bust, and poofed out just a tiny bit below that to hide all of my unsavoury parts. I even spent a good hour with Lauralea looking for shoes and a cardigan to go with it. I found them. Returned them too, before we flew home.
I really was going to wear the dress to the conference banquet in Surrey, but it sounded to me like people weren’t really dressing up. And even if some people were, I’d rather remain unnoticeable in my attire. And, for me, wearing a dress is like putting a big neon sign on me. So, I didn’t wear the dress. And I had the hardest time figuring out what to wear. In the end I wore black (dressy) capris and this shirt — which was a bold move in itself because it has a pattern. (I almost didn’t wear it. I think Marc pretty much made me wear that outfit; he was so sick of the indecision.)
And I’m pretty sure Marc will force me to wear the dress I bought today, if I don’t return it soon enough. I had a gift certificate for the store and it looked the best on me of all the ones that I tried on. (And Marc says it looks great and that I am not to brood about how it looks all afternoon because it looks great.) But I don’t know. It’s so black. It’s so typical. And it’s a dress.
When I was getting groceries today I looked around at the Joe clothes at Superstore and found a plain brown/grey skirt and a v-neck three-quarter length t-shirt a similar colour that I really liked. I’d be comfortable wearing that (though skirts don’t usually look good on me), but it is a wedding not a Saturday morning visit to a farmer’s market.
I don’t know what to do. Marc said if I’m going to cover it up with a cardigan, I should return it. And that I am not to hide my cleavage or get my mom to safety pin the front of my dress together to hide my cleavage either. So, I’m at a loss. But I do have a few more weeks to decide, I guess. And I may be going to Saskatoon next week, so perhaps I could look there. Whatever.
But, really. It is too black, don’t you think? And yet, if it were a colour, I’d think it was too bold. Whatever.
(And, once again, I paradoxically parade my self-consciousness around for all to see… And it’s not the first wedding for which I’ve bought and returned a dress.)