A dress for the wedding.

This week found Hilary and myself finally making a decision on an outfit for me to wear to the wedding. After suffering through those patented gateways to hell commonly known as fitting rooms, we ended up picking out something online. I'm actually grateful that I can see myself as I really am, in my own mirror, instead of in a fitting room mirror........clearly objects of the devil. Thank heavens I don't really look like that. (please allow me my few remaining delusions and refrain from pointing out my denial.....I cling to what little I have left)

Hilary and I communicated online and followed link after link to outfits she liked and ones I liked. I did discover that most, if not all things I thought were nice, Hilary condemned as being "cheap" looking. Hmmmmmm.......I'm sensing a trend here in my taste level, or the apparent lack thereof. To be all honest.....at this point in the process, I would have agreed to ass-less chaps if it's what she wanted. As it was, she found a dress available in my size and she liked it. Done and done.

To ask me if I "love" that dress is like asking a Doberman if he's enjoying the Merlot. I'm sorry...I'm just not wired that way. The list of things that mean nothing to me is growing exponentially as I age. I just don't care about clothes. I admire women who have large collections of clothes and shoes and accessories that they really enjoy pulling together. They exude that love of style and the confidence that goes with it. I have plenty of time to think of this as I'm following behind them in the mall with toilet paper trailing from my Birkenstocks.

My clothing criteria includes pieces that are the least likely to cause me to fall down. This excludes hemlines that hover around my feet, heels any higher than my Crocs (OK....so I have fallen down in my Crocs....whats your point!) and any sort of trailing or dangling accoutrements that could become tangling accoutrements. I also tend toward patterns that will not show food spillage readily. Yep........that's about it. I put ten times the time and consideration in to the purchase of a new paintbrush than I do in to clothing. Sad but true.

So I clicked my way through and ordered the dress. All that matters to me is that it's comfortable and will do it's level best to keep me on my feet. Speaking of my feet......I'm wondering if Hilary is aware of the difficulties awaiting us in the shoe department. There is a reason why Fred Flintstone was always barefoot. I'm thinking Hil is going to make me wear shoes to the wedding.