So I bought the dress. Everyone was saying, "You need to buy a fantastic dress for the Edgars." Easier said that done. For those who haven't seen me in person, I'm short. Really short. Like Lil' Kim short without the curves (at least in front) and without the jail time. And for those who did read my essay on "daikon ashi" (white-radish legs), I have a couple of those, too. I'm not being self-deprecating. Just honest. I mean, those In-Style magazines, etc. are aimed for the regular Jane Blow to think that you might transform into Katherine Heigl or Salma Hayek if you use a certain lip liner and buy a certain knock-off dress. But the truth of the matter is most of us are pretty average in the looks department.
When you don't fit the perfect dimensions for female evening wear, you shop by the process of elimination. No long dresses for this shortie. (It would look like a little kid trying to dress up.) No halters to reveal that funny little bump on my right shoulder (yes, I got it tested--it's not cancerous). No tight skirts because the junk in the trunk. And nothing with sequins and glitter--just not my style.
So I finally found it. It fits with this year's white, black, and red theme and was pretty darn inexpensive. It has a large pattern on it--a photographic no-no, but who cares. It's not going to attract much attention, but then it's incredibly comfortable--I won't have to worry about body parts falling out, etc. I think that I can be me in this dress.
That's one thing I've learned in this mystery biz. You have to be totally yourself. If you start misrepresenting yourself in one place, it may catch up with you another place.
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