We are 5 days from go time!
Both dresses arrive and I open the second one which was my first choice and……I HATE it! The fabric is too white and the wrong blend, the gold chain looks cheap and too big and if that wasn’t enough it has nude boob pads sewn over the center of the chest that not only show through the material but are too small to be anything but oversized pasties. I look back to my alternate and try to find the good in it…. Frankly it doesn’t fit anything like it shows. It is beaded in a geometric pattern which is always a nightmare to alter and it needs a TON of altering. Did I say ton? I meant that it needs to be remade. I can make an overnight bag from the amount of material that needs to be removed from the waist.
Argh!!!!! I scream. I swear. I throw them on the bed. I throw them on the floor. I hang them up. I scream again. I fold them back up in the box.
I call *Carol, my best friend but I can tell from the beep that she is on the other line. I leave her a message telling her about the dress debacle and ask her to call me back and talk me off the ledge. I text her pics of the alternate dress so she is prepared to make me feel better.
Ding-dong goes the doorbell…. Actually it’s a fancy doorbell and it makes this music when it’s rung, but I don’t know how to write music so ding-dong it is. I open the door to find Carol! With a black dress! Now to appreciate this you have to see the big picture. Carol is 5ft tall and tiny all over. She says, “Got your message. I don’t know when I bought this but I am never going to wear it. Never had it altered so here you go, you can have it.” I race into the bathroom to try it… What’s the chance that it will fit? I am 5’5, size 2-4 on the bottom half with a 34F bra size- nothing ever fits properly and what Carol with her 34A would ever be doing with something that could accommodate these cannons is less likely than winning powerball. But yet….. Zipppppppp! Holy Mother Mary of all things good in this world, thank you for seeing me in my time of need! The only alterations needed is for me to take the boob pads out. This dress is smoking. I am smoking. Life is good. I have the perfect Jimmy Choos to wear with it and the perfect Edidi bag. I am sooooo happy right now.
So now we have discussed the dress and the fact that it fits, whatever I do now for exercise and diet only gets me more breathing room. I am no quitter so there is another p90x class that is fabulous and has me crying for mercy and whimpering every time I go up the stairs. Yes! I love the pain!
The next day I decide to get up early and try a body blast class. I don’t know what it is but it’s only an hour. I can so do this….. Except that I am a few minutes late and class has begun on time for once…. And it’s crowded….. And they are doing a lot of choreography….and I don’t speak the language that the instructor uses as she calls out the next sequence… “Grapevine left for 3, then March it up for 4, quarter turn and then an X step”.
Here is where I take out everyone on my side of the room. They are not amused. I try to catch up and there she goes again speaking that strange language. I don’t know what a Mogul is…. I know WHO a mogul is… Just not what… “Pony left for 4″….. Ok clearly this is not the spot for me. I have to get out of here…. Now! But I am stuck in the middle of the room right behind the instructor. I look up at her with an expression of sheer terror on my face. She sees it and replies, “it’s the same sequence in a different direction.” That tells me nothing! I couldn’t do it going forward and I sure as hell can’t do it going to the left. This is hell. This is karma. I have done something very wrong as a child or in the past several lives. Everyone around me wants to kill me and just when I can take it no longer I look back to the instructor and….. She is laughing hysterically at me. She can barely stand up and do her little chain dance because she is doubled over. This is exactly why I belong in the corner where I bother no one.
I don’t understand this! I have great rhythm. I can dance my ass off… Really well. Why can’t I do this? It is a divine mystery to me. Whatever! I believe when the class signed in, they also signed a petition barring me from class next week. I may have caught the words “Temporary Restraining Order” flying around.
Back to yoga on Saturday because I am so sore I can barely sit on the potty and I figure it will be a good stretch. I decide to embrace the annoying breathing and do it louder than everyone else so I only hear myself.
5 days before show time! Tomorrow is Barre and Wednesday is TRX…. Don’t leave me hanging here! We are making book here. 3 to 1, I knock off someone in Barre class. Any takers?