It Really Is A Wonderful Life – Part One
Last night was my company’s Christmas party. I haven’t really been feeling the holiday spirit, especially at work. All week long, everyone else was talking about what they were going to wear, how they were going to do their hair, etcetera, etcetera. When asked, my response was “I dunno, are sweatpants or pajamas ok?”.
So yesterday, we closed up shop early in order to give everyone plenty of time to purty themselves up. I came home and ate some lasagna. Then I checked my email. I read some blogs. I stalled. Eventually, I stopped stalling and decided it was time to check out my closet for really classy sweatpants or pajamas.
Seeing as I only had an hour to shower, shave, fix my face/hair and get dressed, I knew that I would have to make due with whatever I had available. I had effectively stalled myself out of any last minute shopping spree for a new and fabulous dress.
Would anybody but me remember I wore this last year?
I immediately went to a little black number that tends to be my “fallback” plan.It’s simple, slimming, with a mandarin collar and is pretty much acceptable for most occasions. Then I realized I wore it to the Christmas party last year. Damn. I continued to rummage.
Too big, too blue, too…yuck. Aaaargh! Why, WHY did I say I would attend?!
Too form fitting and I have too much form these days. Also, why the hell do all my dresses have spaghetti straps or no straps?!
Hmmm. Pretty. But it’s not long enough to wear with just pantyhose. Need pants. Or a skirt. Which? Fuck it. Never mind.
Kinda low cut. Too slutty. Even for me.
Floor length?! Not a freakin’ chance.
Ta-da! We have dress!
Then I found it. It was hidden way in the back of my closet. I had only ever worn it once, years ago and then forgotten about it. Classic style, in my favourite colour. This was it. And I could wear my leopards with it. Perfect.
In the end, I didn’t need to shop for some fab dresses after all. I went to the party, got lots of compliments and didn’t have a miserable time. At one point, I stepped outside for a smoke. It wasn’t cold cold but rather, nice cold and it was snowing, lightly, but full, fluffy flakes. The kind that you see in movies, when the family wakes up on Christmas morning. I was in Old Montreal, with it’s gorgeous architecture and Christmas lights and wreaths up and down the street and on nearly every building and big, fluffy snowflakes falling. People were walking by, holding hands or carrying shopping bags, smiling.
Suddenly, life wasn’t so bad.