CLG- Version 3.3

Hello Peeps!

I greet you from the other side of the luckiest age in the human scope – 33! If I were Chinese: A) I would get along better with my work colleagues and B) I would be the age where all good things can and will happen. HURRAY!! GREATNESS!!

I’ll take it, even if it is only for 1 year.

And amidst all this chaos, all the tears, all the stress – this weekend was beyond awesome and gave me a solid reminder (via swift kick to the ass) that I am loved and I shouldn’t forget it.

First major report came from the Friday before my birthday, in form of a dilapidated package containing MY WEDDING DRESS!! (Thanks again, Janet, a real professional). So Mom and I quickly escaped to her bedroom and tore open the dirty, small box to pull out a white puff ball…that didn’t fit.

Not that Mom and I didn’t try. We first tried on the dress by having me dive into it from the bottom and pull it down….um, yah…no….It didn’t go down. Got stuck around the hips therefore making it 6 inches from hitting the ground which was HIDEOUS looking, and not shiftable. Then the top of the dress, which was already cut so heavy, was literally UNDER my chin, with no boobies to hoist into the top.

I looked ridiculous. To say the least.

So, we tried it on with the amazing product called SPANX that claim they can get even Adele into a skinny dress, just depending on how many you wear. So, I tried on one. A lightweight version as I thought it might be super hot and wanted a cooler option for the day. And in my efforts to get them on I ripped a MASSIVE hole in the tookiss (sp?) to which my Mom innocently comments, “Honey, is there supposed to big hole in the back?”. Garrr…I’m not a calm or patient person, and I felt that last nerve started to work on itself, so I just tried to ignore her and get the dress on again. When it didn’t go over my hips again, I cursed SPANX and Adele, and then started pulling viciously on the lace to get it over my hips.

And then I heard it.

The voice.

The one that reminds me that I’m about to do something SUPER stupid and now is the moment to STOP and SAVE MYSELF before it’s too late. So as I’m pulling on the delicate lace that covers the dress, I realize that I’ll actually just rip the lace in half and have ruined the already ruined dress and never forgive myself.

So I stopped. I’m frustrated, angry and tired…not daft.

But then came the tears. How could they not? It’s the ending of the longest-emotional week. My stupid dress has come in a ghetto, broke down box, it has three MAJOR issues, and I just don’t care anymore about fixing it or looking hot on the big day.

I JUST WANT TO SLEEP.

SO, what else can I do?? I pull myself together, eat sushi, and go to bed. Why such a change, you ask? Because it was about to be my 33rd birthday and I couldn’t see the point of ruining such a monumental day over a silly dress. I had big plans for my birthday…

1) Golfing with Roy and His Mom. My second time every actually playing through a course, and my god, I wanted to not look like a fool in front of Roy’s mom, WHO WINS CHAMPIONSHIPS EVERY YEAR!! But my outfit was bomb. And my playing, not dire.

2) Was planning to take a nap, dye my hair, get fitted for my dress, go to the dollar store, make programs, get a mani and pedi.

3) But I noticed that Roy was being a bit off, freaking out about checking his phone, stalling left and right to bring me home (even pretending to get lost in SF on our way home…um, dude, you’re raised here, how can you be lost???). I insisted he drop me off at the seamstress so I could mess with my hideous dress, and he gladly almost threw me out of the car and left. Ok, I thought, he’s an odd potato.

4) Was told by my tiny, Persian seamstress that we could take material off the back of the dress to create 4.5 inches more length in the front (or not wear my gorgeous heels- NOT AN OPTION) and that she could slim down the boob as I look like a 60 year old matron wearing white. BUT then she turned scary and fierce…she WAS NOT going to let the dress out in the hip by a half inch. It would take way too many man hours (two weeks before a wedding is not ideal time for “way too many man hours”) and would be super expensive. So my lovely tailor looked me right in the eye (she’s 4’11”…so I met her eye to eye by squatting) and told me STRAIGHT UP that I had to lose 2-3 pounds to get into the dress perfectly and this was ON ME, not her. (lololololol…eating grilled chicken breast and broccoli as we speak).

5) Called Roy to get me and drove home wearing an outfit only I could werk. High heels, lesbian golf culottes, wife beater, sleeves fleece vest. Walked into my house wearing that carrying a catastrophic amount of old gym clothes left in my car to….

6) SURRRRPPPPPPRRRRRRIIIIIIIISSSSSEEEEEEE!!!!! Ah, so Roy didn’t have a new mistress, he was planning a secret shin-dig. I guess I could forgive him…and promptly announce to the entire party, “oh shit…I was totally planning to take a nap right now….”.

7) After a wicked fiesta and an hour nap, I headed out to the city looking foxy (in white…it just feels like I want to wear white to everything lately….hummmm) to have a lovely dinner with my girlfriend, her family who were visiting from DC, and my darling fiancée.

8) Went home and fell asleep at midnight watching the Olympics.

WHAT!!! TOO AWESOME, you say? HOW RAD, you assert?

Yes…I am.

Now you see CL? Life is good. Just get your ass down the aisle, then you can really take a nap.

 

 

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One thought on “CLG- Version 3.3

  1. I love this story. I can see you doing that, with the dress. And the best part is I know how you looked on the big day, once in it…stunning. No lace ripping. Glad you have “the voice.” I also have the voice, but I often choose to ignore it anyway.

    Never goes well.

    Like

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