Shopping My Closet
Drama breeds contempt. After living much of my life in a state of High Drama, the act of shopping for a single dress to flatter my new figure was dragging me back into the dramatic gutter. I had to make a change.
I decided to shop my closet. Surely, some forgotten something would be lurking there.
Sleek green silk organza with flourishes of pink and blue ribbon. Strapless but not floor length. A princess dress. It could be cocktail party or nice dinner, if I bothered to iron it before I put it on.
I ripped it from its plastic tomb and zipped myself into it, smirking with glee that it didn’t hang up around my hips or catch on any bulge. I knew – just KNEW – that it would be the new old dress for me.
Only, I had a small problem. TWO small problems. My shrunken bosoms no longer filled the thing out up top. I had to keep tugging on it to keep my mammaries covered, and I had inches of extra fabric swimming around my hips. Wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen, when said dress fell all the way to the floor.
The confounded dress was TOO BIG.
This post is part of the series Don’t Mess With the Dress. If this is your first visit to the series, please click here to go back to the beginning, go here for the second installment and click here for the third installment.