So, I had this awesome day where I wasn't feeling so good about myself. I decided to try to dress up for work. I put on one of the dresses that I thought might not fit, and, to my surprise, it did! Totally excited. It looked adorable, I felt good about myself, and I went to work on my couture-induced high. As far as I'm concerned, any day in patent leather pumps is a good day.
Except, you know, this one.
I got to work and started talking to the doc about different things. Soon, all four of us were in his office going over things. I noticed something weird on my dress. Upon further inspection, the seam on my right thigh was coming apart. At 8 a.m. Half hour away from home with a packed day.
Shit.
I decided to leave it alone and hope it didn't get worse.
Yeah, right.
I couldn't leave it alone for a second. I was so worried. What if it gets bigger and I get more naked?! (She said.) Oh noes.
To paraphrase Fight Club, it's like the sore in your mouth that would get better if you could just stop touching it with your tongue, but you can't stop touching it with your tongue. Yeah. I tried to fix it with safety pins, but it just made the dress come apart more.
To this:
It got worse every time I sat down. Eventually, the only option was to do this:
It looked like it was meant to be that way unless you saw the BIG GAPING SEAM IN THE LINING.
It happened to be a day where we had an extra long lunch break, so after a quick trip to Ross, the dress became this:
I'll be honest, the dress cost me $8.00. I'm not entirely worried about the fact that I had to trash it. I was more concerned about my potential to be entirely unclothed at any point during the day.
That, my friends, is as close as I will ever come to Janet Jackson.
As always, it's hip to be square (and not naked!), kids.
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