It's the time of year when I go on a hunt for the perfect dress to wear to the Romance Writers of America RITA awards ceremony (kind of like the Oscars for romance writers).
So far, I've stuck to solid colors, kind of a plain-but-dressed-up-with-jewelry style.
*You see that thing in Roni's hand? That's a RITA! Because she's awesome.
**We all have weird smiles in this one because the hotel dude didn't seem to be able to work a phone camera.
This year I wanted something a little flashier. Maybe a little more daring (at least for me.) So, I ordered this dress.
It came in yesterday. It has more gold on the roses than I’d like and I was worried it might be a size too small. But, it fit well, hid my tummy, showed off my legs. Everything I was looking for in a dress except when I pulled it down over my chest, I noticed that it “accentuated my assets" a little better than I'm normally comfortable with. It accomplished this with a thin band that should have been at my waist but was across my rib cage, making each breath an adventure.
I modeled it for my older teen first (who is the resident fashion guru). She gushed about how cute it was and how flattering. She liked it so much, I was debating how much I enjoy breathing and if I could make it through a few hours without doing that. I mean, when a fifteen year-old compliments your style, you got to consider your options.
I had her unzip the back (ahhh, oxygen!) and made my way back to my room.
At this point, I discovered a universal truth about tight dresses and large chests. Pulling something down is much easier than pulling it back up.
I couldn't push the whole dress down because it's fitted and wouldn't stretch over my hips. I couldn't pull it over my head because, well, there were obstacles.
Basically I ended up with the dress half over my head, trying to squish and pull at the same time. All while having panicked thoughts of being trapped in the dress forever or, at least until I lost consciousness from lack of oxygen to my brain, which might have been slightly irrational.
I was already picturing being cut out of my fashion choice by paramedics when I heard my youngest daughter's voice.
"Mom, are you okay? Do you need some help?"
Bless you, child. Bless you.
I held things in place while she pulled it over my head as if I were a two year-old.
So, if you see me at RWA this year, please, please say hi! I love making new friends, will probably talk way longer than I should and will be happy to pose for a picture in my nice, safe, plain dress that won't attack me after the RITA ceremony.