It’s raining ice from the sky today. I have blankets, pillows, candles, firewood, water, canned food, flashlights, batteries, and thermal socks. I am ready for you ice storm. Anyhow, I am expecting to be without power (actually I better be because I spent a lot of time getting ready for it. Grrr.) anytime now. So here we go.
Earlier this week, Luke and I were scheduled to sing at a convention. Not just any convention. A convention full of Baptist people. We were singing worship music for 2 days which I total love and would have done for free except that they paid us and that is awesome. I decided that I needed a new dress, which I decided pretty much every time I sing somewhere or sometimes I decided that just because it’s a Tuesday or a Thursday or because I got a pop-up ad from Target or I can’t decide what to wear. So just hours before we were supposed to be on the platform for the sound check, I headed to the store.
I needed something all black which dramatically narrowed my choices. I managed NOT to try on/purchase about 4 other really cute dresses. This is a big deal. I may need to reward myself by going back and buying that awesome pair of red platform pumps that I saw. Of course, then I will need a new dress to go with tem. So I was looking for things that were all black. I found, after an hour or so, the cutest black dress with simple beading right over the neckline and cut kind of like a kimono in the sleeves. The best part is that it was cleavage friendly for a bunch of Baptists. I mean, there was no cleavage. (Side note: I love my own cleavage. Sometimes I catch myself just looking at it going “Man, I look so good. I love having these things!”)
I didn’t actually try it on because I am a pretty good judge of my own size and it was a loose flowing cut so I didn’t think it would be oddly bunching anywhere. I knew that it was a little short so I headed over to the leggings to see if I needed any new leggings to wear under the thing. Once there, I decided that I was probably safe with the opaque tights that I already have. (Multiple pair of opaque tights in fact.) When I headed over to pay, she looks at the dress and says “Oh that is so cute!” I never know what to say when they say things like that. It’s like, I didn’t make the dress so do I say “thank you” anyway”? I’m not actually wearing the dress, so she’s not complimenting me on how well I pull off the look. Maybe she is just addressing my good taste? Actually, they are the ones who chose to carry the dress in the store, so maybe I should congratulate them? I just never know. Anyway, she thought the dress was cute and then she gives me what should have been a warning or foreshadowing or something. She says “Is it a shirt or a dress?”
I carried home my super cute shirt/dress and began the beautification process. It’s not an easy process. I pretty much love being a girl. So there were lots of female type things that I had to accomplish. First up was my mud mask. I won this mask at a women’s event. It’s not one I would have purchased for myself, but it is serious business. It’s more like a concrete mask. I think that its purpose is to actually harden your skin and muscle all the way to the bone in an attempt to just preserve it as it is. So I spackled my face and sat back to wait 20 minutes. Lily popped into my room during this time and caught a pretty good startle. I said “Do you like mommy’s face?” Only my face was a brick so it was like “du du da do du da?” She just turned around and left. I tried to take a drink of coffee. FYI: You can’t drink coffee when your face is frozen.
Finally, it came time to take a shower. I liberated my face from the iron mask and reveled perfectly smooth skin or a layer of muscle; I’m not sure which. I spent the next hour drying, curling, painting nails, make-up-ing, jewlary-ing, and watching a documentary on the Hindenburg. Because I love hydrogen air-ships. My plan was to finish all of the process and put on the dress at he last moment. Luke and I would then pick up Grace from school, swing by and pick up another singer from our group and be just in time for the sound-check. Right about the time the air-ship caught fire I slipped into my dress. Right around the time the crew on the ground was panicking, I realized that my dress was, in fact, a long shirt.
This was also about the time that Luke came in the room and said “That’s the dress? It looks kind of Friday-night-at-the-club-whory.” Of course, I take this as a compliment. “You really think I look that good! Thanks, babe!” But I understand that a room full of Baptists might not agree that Friday-night-at-the-club-whory is a good look. So NOW I am frantically digging around in my closet trying to find an alternate dress; and the clock is ticking. Dress 1: Bra straps showing. Dig through all of the laundry trying to find any of my strapless bras. No luck. Maybe I should actually wash clothes instead of just buying new ones. Dress 2: Dowdy. Why did I ever buy this dress? Dress 3: Not exactly all black. In fact it is mostly white with black designs. Dress 4: My go to funerals dress. Well…this could work. Black wool. Tea-length. Sleeveless. High cut. Done. But it looks ridiculous with these tights. Ditch the tights, Discover that I need to shave. No time to shave. Grab a razor. Out the door.
As we drove to the convention, I dry shaved in the car. It was kind of like that part in the Breakfast Club where she makes all the dandruff fall on the table. Only it was the top few layers of skin on my legs. We ate burritos in the car just before we went inside. The good news is that we made it on time and sang our little Baptist hearts out. The bad news is that my legs looked like dried out, chopped up, tree trunks. But hopefully that was offset by my super cute shoes. The shirt/dress actually made its debut the next day; along with jeans and boots.
