The Dress

Recently Teddy Bear and I spent the weekend in Santa Barbara for a fancy work retreat. I would be meeting many people in TB's company for the first time, as well as some old family friends that I had not yet met. It was important for the two of us to make a good impression. TB wants to continue to do well at his company and follow his father's footsteps as a Big Boss. Yes, this post is really fucking dull but it will get better soon. I promise. Just remember-weekend important.

To get ready for the weekend, I hogtied TB and drug him to Nordstrom to get a nice jacket, shirt, tie, slacks, belt, shoes, etc. We also got haircuts (& color for me), and I got my eyebrows ripped off/waxed. I also found an awesome dress on sale for less than thirty bucks. THIRTY BUCKS!! While at the hotel I had my fingers and toes painted by the nicest girl. We were ready rock out with our cocks out, people. Or, jamming with my clam out. I do not own a cock. You know what I mean.

I returned to the hotel room at 5:30pm. The social hour began at six, followed by dinner at seven. At five minutes before six, with my hair, make-up, special undies, shoes, blah blah blah all ready I reached for my dress hanging in the closet. Except the dress was hiding from me. So I looked a little harder. I had TB look for the dress. And guess fucking what? IT WAS NOT THERE. I had left the dress at home. WHAT THE FUCK?!

I was torn between sitting naked on the bed crying, wearing something totally inappropriate or running around naked screaming. Normally the crying would not be a viable option, however the next day I found out I was pregnant. Duh! Stupid hormones and being a girl. After some whirlwind deliberate I ran to The Nail Girl (in my heels and yes I did throw a shirt and jeans on) and begged her for help. Sweaty, panting and distraught. Her first question was, "Do you want me to run home and get you a dress?" Uh, no crazy chick. Do I look like I feel that entitled? Okay, I guess I look like a nut job.

I wanted a place to find a dress and NOW. Her friend said the magic words, "Oh, there is a Nordstrom on State Street" and I almost went down on her. Well, in retrospect yes, but at the time I was a bit stressed and she wasn't very cute. I hopped in the car with shaky directions and a general idea of where I needed to go. Downtown Santa Barbara on a beautiful Saturday at 6pm. I was fucked.

Did I ever mention how much I hate parking garages? When my dad was in the burn unit in Salt Lake City for several weeks I had to deal with a parking garage every fucking day. I got less nervous about it with the much-needed practice but now instead of making me anxious it reminded me of a very crappy time in my life. Remember the new (to us) car? I haven't driven a manual transmission full time since 1999. Now add the two together, throw in a little OHMYFUCK, a pair of heels and you have Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.

I parked, ran up stairs, down stairs, and down a city block. In a heatwave. Luckily I have an amazing sense of direction even though my short-term memory sucks due to the fibro. Don't even ask me how I managed to physically get through it, it must have been the adrenaline. I showed up in the proper department of Nordstrom and found a very nice sales lady who helped me find a dress and purchase it in less than ten minutes. Not just any dress, it was exactly what I was looking for AND it wasn't a fuckton of money AND it fit. I was so damn happy I could have hugged the sales lady. But of course I didn't because I don't like people enough to TOUCH them.

By the way, if you live within driving distance of a Nordstrom and have not experienced the joy of shopping there-you must try it. It is not cheap, but if you are a total dumb ass and cannot pick out clothes to save your life it is worth it. You can show up and say, "I am looking for such and such for this occasion" and they will find it. And then alter it free of charge (if you pay full price,with sale items you have to pay extra), and steam it if applicable. If I could afford to only shop there all the time I would. By the way, the dress was only $138. Not bad for a "oh fuck I need something NOW" dress and much cheaper than a boutique would have been.

I bought the dress, took off the heels and ran back to the car. I didn't get stuck on any one way streets, only broke the speed limit a little bit, and ran one light that was pink, I swear. No, there were no other cars in the area, I wasn't trying to kill anyone. I made it to the dinner about five minutes after seven, looking fantastic, cool, calm, and collected. I was a rockstar.

Of course, Teddy Bear decided that telling a person or twelve that I wasn't at the social hour becuase I was off buying a dress to replace the one I forgot wasn't the most awesome idea. Those people decided it was a good idea to tell other people about the fiasco. Can you imagine walking into a room of two hundred plus people and having a large percentage of them staring at you and checking out your dress? And then commenting on it during any conversation with you for the rest of the night? I was a wee bit mortified. At least I wasn't running around naked and screaming.