Square Peg ● Round Hole







The moment that I pledge to do something different, the universe basically says, “challenge accepted”. No yoga yesterday, but I had to set some boundaries. Clothing boundaries, that is, because my spouse has gotten comfortable simply strutting around in his undies. (Sorry, for the visual.) Just like I had to remind Bailey that coming to the dinner table with no shirt was unacceptable. I know, I sound like a drill sergeant. I own it, but I did say it nice and as miracles continue to evolve, pants were added to his ensemble.

So with the pants issue resolved, I resumed the search for a dress for my nephew and future niece-in-law’s wedding. This time I searched “online boutiques USA”, so I would not be trapped by foreign companies that can’t seem to get the size or the delivery right. Let me state that I despise shopping. It is right up there with my annual gynecologist visit and going to the dentist. Plus, the styles range from hoochie mama to what my mother might wear. One website was called “nasty gal”. Seriously, if I were going for the hooker look, this would have been the ideal place to browse. I finally found a site that seemed to cater to “normal” people and thought I found the perfect dress. I clicked to pick out my size and the only one available was a 00. Umm…..who is seriously this size? I want to meet them as they are similar to a unicorn.

Finally, after hours, (cue exaggeration), I found what I hope to be the dress that will make it to the wedding. I even paid extra so the dress will arrive by the end of this week. This will allow me to alternate my plans if, by chance, this isn’t the one. Picking out the perfect dress reminds me of dating. I mean, obviously, I haven’t dated in thirty years, but the premise of selecting the ideal outfit seems like the clothes version of “The Bachelorette”. “Does it make me feel good? Do I feel attracted to it? Is it love at first sight? Will it get a rose? See, dating and dress shopping, shockingly similar. The good news is that if I am not interested in the dress, there are no hurt feelings. I don’t have to say, “It’s not you, it’s me”. I don’t have to pretend that I am interested.

Fingers crossed that today, I can escape any universal challenges, that my family can put on some clothes, oh, and that my dress and I live happily ever after.