Yesterday, a narrator started telling the blow-by-blow account of my search for a dress to wear to the Pittsburgh Magazine awards dinner, that I had to attend with Adam. I never really pay attention to my narrators as I've become quite accustomed to them. This particular chapter was completely absurd. I've been reading Game of Thrones, and it seems that narrator has decided to claim a stake on my brain. This is seriously what went on in my head as I tried on dresses.....
"Lady Jessica knew not which gown to choose for the celebration......" Mind you, there were no gowns. I was staring at a rack full of short sun dresses....."She chose a beautiful teal dress, woven from the finest...." I checked the tag......."woven from the finest spandex/cotton blend. She slid the gown over her head, and grimaced at the way it clung to her misshapen form. Her body disfigured from years of child bearing. Tossing that one aside, she chose another, one a deep shade of plum. It fit nicely, hiding her deformities. Now to decide which color. She loved the plum, for it was her favorite color, but it caused her complexion to appear drab, and she appeared five years her senior. She draped the red gown over her chest. The color of loose women, she thought to herself,".......Uh, I have given birth to 8 children. It doesn't get any looser than that......."but the red complimented her fair, freckled skin, and brought out the auburn flecks in her hair...."
That would be where I realized what was going on in my head. In my own inner voice I asked, What is this? Medieval Wonder Years?" I let out an audible snort, too late to remember there were a couple of other women in stalls next to me. I'm sure, after hearing that, they wondered what was going on in my dressing room. I doubt they had any clue that a whole Medieval dressing scene was going down next to them, and the poor Lady Jessica from the House of Johnston was having gown issues.
Lesson 155: having a dressing room experience that requires a raising of the banners = white trash