I have to say that I have ventured into the world of dresses BUT only for weddings. The 2011 wedding I recycled a dress I had worn few years back, though it meant I had to flash the flesh on my bingo wings. Last years wedding attendance, I sought out a new dress. I knew this would be a stressful, depressing time of dress shopping and that it turned out to be. Any dress I shoved my body into looked like I was wearing a maternity dress. Standing in Debenhams in a pretty little number, I stepped out to show my other half and, his famous words "would have looked better if you had taken your spotty socks off" - to me, I hadn't even thought about my feet and even the sales assistant laughed. My other half thought I looked lovely, these words fell on deaf ears because when I looked in the mirror I couldn't see what he saw and the dress was hung back up and left in the shop. I do believe bringing a man on a shopping spree when you have in your mind that nothing will fit is probably not a good idea. I think if I had gone into the changing room and walked back out in the same clothes, he would have not batted an eyelid and said "yes you look lovely dear". At this point you know you've lost them.
Fear not, I did find a lovely dress and guess what it wasn't black. It was a gorgeous peplum cerise dress from Dotty P's, check me out. Against my skin, bright colours seem to zing so I felt a million dollars when I put it on. Topped with a little black short jacket and a black fascinator and bag (I tried) I was happy. Now that was until I realised ooh there is a little lump or bump showing, let me find a little something to smooth myself out. So I trawl, via the internet, smoothline body shapers. Why was there so many? I just wanted something that created a miracle, ok, something that smoothed me down a little and stopped my thighs chaffing and setting on fire. In reality though, I got something that smoothed a little (not as much as I thought it would) and instead of the shorts all in one shaper I opted for a short dress thing shaper, with the rubberised hem to stop it riding up. Placing my feet in my sandals and checking myself one more time, I thought looking good chick. Battled to get in the car and sit like a lady for the journey to the wedding but getting out without splitting the split any further was any interesting feat but gladly I did it.
Now whoever invented these rubberised hem line shapers needs a serious slap. The only place it didn't stopped the slip going to was under my arm pits as the rubber hem wedged just above my belly. How on earth do I pull that down. People must have thought I had a serious problem as I was always fiddling under the hem of my dress. I knew better and took an extra dress along with me and left it in the car so when the ceremony and food were done, I skipped into the howling winds of Cornwall and into the car to change. We ladies have a way of getting changed in a car without flashing any flesh, that night in the back of the car I achieved this with such dignity. However, the one item of clothing I wished to remove, the rolling slip, I couldn't. So on returning to the reception a quick dash to the loo to roll the slip up and leave it where it had spent most of the time, at my waist. I was the envy of many a female that night because I now looked comfy instead of a walking piece of bubblegum.
Now I think that was the last time I was seen in a dress, October 2012. Hmm seems dresses are a yearly outfit for me.
I had a little crazy idea that during the time gypsy dresses were fashionable I would buy one. For a trip to the races, I thought I would wear this with a pair of gladiator sandals, all in season and very stylish I thought. I hate to say that the dress I nearly ended up being topless in, as climbing some stairs I stood on the hem and nearly provided the evening entertainment for the punters. And don't start me on the sandals. Have you ever bought shoes/sandals and in the shop they felt like a glove on your feet, the short steps to the mirror in the shop do not match the hike that I had to do from the car park to the racetrack. The balls of my feet felt like they had been poked with a hot skewer then set on fire. Every time my friends wanted to get up and walk I would wince in pain. People must have thought I had an injury because I had to adopt a walk on the sides of your feet to stop the balls of my feet burning further. The one small win on the horses did in no way make up for the tears that were about to come pelting down my face at the thought of walking back to the car. Needless to say one wear of those shoes and they were given away.
Lets be honest ladies, some of the things we do and wear for fashion has to make you laugh. No man is that daft to do it to themselves so why do we - no pain no gain?