My New Dress(es)

Abby and I spent all day together yesterday.

This isn't new as we spend all day together every day but Andy took Grayson for the afternoon so it was just me and my girl.

We went clothing shopping for her mostly.

Looking for those elusive things maybe one or six sizes too big so it doesn't "sting and hurt" her neck.  The more I think about Abby's tactile sensitivities I remember some of my own.   I may have forgotten but I have pretty much sworn off denim, lycra, or anything not 200% worn and cozy cotton.  I'm an absolute porcupine in a cardboard box in jeans and a button down shirt.  Shame too because that look never gets old.

Much like Abby does now, I too had a neck phobia that forced me to throw fists if anyone so much as tried fix my necklace.  The last time Andy put a cold bottle of beer on my leg, he got a swift kick to his Sunshine state.  Freezing cold anything on bare skin is a deal breaker.  Desert maker. 

So after we picked out lots of baggy stuff for Abs, we headed next door for lunch.  She chose chocolate chip pancakes, sausage, and tomato soup.  I chose the usual soup/sandwich combo and we ate our lunch quietly, efficiently with the help of 700 napkins.

After lunch the poor thing had to endure a dressing room, six dresses, and her mother wrestling to find arm holes for an hour.  Abby amused herself by trying on all the leftover dresses other women left in there.  I always try them on too because you never know, brown and rust colored poppies just might be your swag.  (It wasn't.)

The reason we were dress shopping was twofold:  1) for last night's double date night and 2) another C&S function next week.  It's been ages since I tried to pick out anything requiring good underwear so the fact that two dresses fit right away went straight to my head.  I immediately put them on the "keep" hook while Abby got lost in a sea of handkerchief hems and A lines.

An hour later we were at the register, purchasing my perfect fits, some new strappy shoes, and big chunky silver earrings because I panic and get big chunky silver at the register every time. 
 
Happier than the average housewife, I couldn't wait to get home, shower up and slide right into the pretty cocktail dress with a bouncy print to announce all my new happy.  It was going to be a good night.

Until we were standing in the driveway and I felt like a Romanian hooker.

"Is this dress to much?"  I ask myself more than my husband.

"Too much what." He says tapping directions into the GPS.

"Too...you know...desperate for attention, paid to be here kinda deal?  I'm going back in to change my earrings at least, they are too much."

"It's not the earrings.  It's the shoes." He says in full on disbelief he said it.

OH. Kay.  Got it.  I DO look like a Romanian hooker and I need to change pronto before we are even later than the initial late we always are.

Thing is my change over wasn't exactly a step down.

It was like two ladders, a stairwell, and an elevator down.

I showed up to our double date looking like a nun.  Complete with cardigan.  Andy was pleased, I was perspiring, and my girlfriend asked if that was a nursing bra underneath my tank forty seconds after we arrived.

Morale of the story:  Always go with the hooker outfit.