My blog

I don't remember where I got this dress, probably a consignment shop somewhere, but I remember it was $3 and I just grabbed it on my way to the register without trying it on. "It's a simple, stretchy, gray dress, it will look good and go with anything." I thought. No. It won't. Everything about this dress is the exact proportions to look awful on me. I call it, "The Saggy Elephant Skin Dress." So I didn't feel bad at all when I cut it up. I laid a skirt that I liked over the fabric to get an idea of the size I wanted. Then I cut out 2 of each of these shapes. (I dissected one of the sleeves for more fabric.) The elephant dress was lined, and had satin ties. I decided to use the lining in my new skirt and edge my ruffle with the satin. The rounded wedges would become my ruffle. I laid them, right sides together, with the satin in between. I didn't pin them together. (In normal situations I am incredibly persnickety about correct grammar, exact spe...

The other day I smelled myself. It's not a good sign when you can smell yourself. I can't think of any time in my life when showers, hair appointments, hair brushes, tooth brushes, unstained clothes, clothes that fit right, and nice make-up have been such a low priority. I also can't think of any time in my life where I have been so lavishly complimented on my appearance. Before I had kids I got compliments when I did my hair, but no one was ever very enthusiastic about my bed-head first thing in the morning. People would tell me that they liked my clothes, but no one liked what I was wearing enough to grab it and rub their cheek on the fabric. And people would tell me I was pretty, but no one, not even Handsome Bryce, ever compared me to a magical, sparkling, princess with the power of levitation. Not bad.