Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

29 May 2012

Super Cali-fabu-listic-maxi-dress-a-docious

I'm wearing my first maxi dress today (at least, first one since the late 60s, early 70s when I was a little girl and we actually called then "at home dresses") because let's face it, I'm hip and cool and if you can wear it, I can wear it better.


Long story short, I look like I've been sent down the catwalk dressed by Omar the Tentmaker.

It pains me to say that this is quite possibly the worst look EVER for a short, chunky, middle-aged woman.

In case you were wondering.

I decided to go with your basic, slimming black (which, in my humble opinion, hides a multitude of sin and tummy bulges) with some cunning little purple, white and turquoise splashes of color, hither and yon.  It's quite fancy, in it's own casual "made for hot summer days" kind of way.  It has your necessary boob enhancing bodice... shows the girls in their best possible light without exposing them for all the world to see... wide straps to cover the sensible bra that those of us with bosoms need  to wear so our tatas don't hang down to our belly buttons....

I'm telling you all, I put a lot of thought into this purchase.

And I looked STUNNING in the dressing room mirror.  I looked at least a foot and a half taller, 40 (maybe even 50) pounds thinner, 20 years younger...

I looked like a GODDESS.

A GODDESS in desperate need of a tan, but a GODDESS none the less.

I couldn't make it to the register fast enough to pay for this magical dress.

When I got home I could barely wait to slide this bewitching garment over my head and charm the pants off of my husband with my stunning beauty/instant weight loss/height enhancement/agereduction.

I sexily sashayed into the bedroom and changed into my ensemble, the one I swore to never take off, never, and possibly even wear to my own funeral.

I posed seductively in front of the mirror.

A short, fat, squat, troll who had the NERVE to be wearing MY DRESS posed seductively back at me.

Me, in my magical maxi dress.

Fat bitch having the nerve to stare back at me from my bedroom mirror.

That CAN'T be right, I informed myself.  I looked AMAZING in the mirror in the dressing room.  AMAZING.  

I could have been a super model in that dress in that dressing room.  I seriously almost called Tyra and said, "Stop the search for America's Next Top Model, baby... I got your winner right here.  Oh, and send Nigel to do the photo shoot, por favor."

(I looked so fabulous, dahling, that I found myself thinking in French.  Or Spanish.  Whichever.)

I could hear Dan in the living room bellowing (because he's super quiet), "HEY!  COME SHOW ME THIS DRESS!'

Me:  *in the bedroom, still stunned by the fatty in the mirror*  "No."

Dan:  "Whaddaya mean, NO?  Come out here!  I wanna see it!"

Me:  *obviously too fat to even walk from the bedroom to the living room*  "I can't."

Dan:  *thundering into the bedroom like a herd of overweight buffalo*

Me:  *standing in front of the mirror*

Dan:  *because he's a stupid, stupid man*  "Why'd ya get that?  Is it a muumuu?"


Dear Portion Of Universe Responsible For Condemnation To Hell,

Referring to my uber fabulous maxi dress as a muumuu is, indeed, a valid reason to maim, torture, and kill, yes?

Thank you for your understanding in this matter.



After sobbing pathetically for days and swearing vengeance on Dan, the dressing room at the department store where I purchased said dress,  the dress itself, and whatever asshole decided that maxi dresses should be "in" this summer, I decided that it's the mirror in MY bedroom that's flawed.


Today, I weareth my maxi dress with pride.

And this has nothing to do with the fact that I have no intention of leaving the house today.  I swear.

Shut up, you Texas douchebag.  You're fat, too.  So neener neener.


  1. I'm sure you look STUNNING in that dress. Home mirrors are notorious for lying, doncha know. They are trying to keep us humble. The dressing room mirror told the truth!

    So, um . . . can I see you in this dress? Please?

    Dan definitely needs some torture. A muumuu? That is just wrong. Do you want me to come up there and kick his ass?

    1. My mirror is a lying ASS. It has me convinced that I'm a short, overweight, middle-aged woman. IT COULDN'T BE MORE WRONG.

      No photos until I lose a million pounds. End of story.


      Dan needs an ass-kickin'. Come kick it for me, please.

  2. Gah. I can't even find any decent summer dresses. Why do most maxi dresses make you look like a friggin' circus tent or 8 months pregnant? I have hips and ample, AMPLE bosoms. I need you to accomodate both without having strangers congratulate me on the newest member of my family.

    Also, you need to use the phrase "Go fuck yourself, honey." when Dan says shit like that. I think he'd get the hint then.

    1. Now I'm a little offended that no one assumes I'm pregnant, probably because it's obvious to all and sundry that my poor old eggs are powdered and useless, even though I bleed like a ruptured artery every 28 freaking days.

      I hate humans.

      Note to self:

      Add "Go fuck yourself, honey, to daily conversation."

      Love you MORE.

  3. I want a maxi dress because they look comfy. I want to be dressy and comfy at the same time, dammit!

    Tell Dan muumuus don't come in black. Only bright florals.

    Also...mirrors suck.

  4. I was avidly against them for awhile because I fely they were shapeless. Then I saw one at target I loved. It was a maternity dress so i bought it in the smallest size and it fits like a dream. I know own 3 more. I'm in love.

  5. Okay, I bought a STUNNING dress for Easter that TWH AND TB had to zip me into. The zipper got stuck on a seam. That's my story & I'm sticking to it. Until. I. DIE!!


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