My dad wore a suit. My mom was taking the time to pick out jewelry. My older brother was spiking his hair. My little brother couldn’t care less. We had to look fancy.
My parents hadn’t gone to this church since my older brother, now eighteen, was a baby. I wasn’t even sure if the people there even knew I existed. Or my little brother for that matter. So I had my heart set on leaving a good impression.
Let’s face it: when you’re introduced to people, four out of five forget your name. And you forget theirs. But what’s the one thing you remember? What they look like. (And why is this? It’s because if we didn’t remember what they looked like, none of us would get the chance to burst brain vessels, wracking our brains to try and get a faint recollection of “what’s-his-face’s” name. And man, what would life be without that?)
Anywho, joking aside, I thought long and hard about what I would wear. I wanted to look nice. Like, nice nice. You get what I mean by nice? Well, nothing seemed to be working for me. Something was either too casual, or too summery, too out there, too boring. Finally, I was left with: my skirt.
(You’ll have to forgive me for not having pictures as I go along. I took so long, trying to find an outfit that I was kind of in a hurry so I only took pictures of the finished product. But no worries. I’ll just describe it. Mwa-ha-ha. I am a writer after all.)
The skirt is designed with a layer of floral pattern on black gossamer material which drapes over burgundy silk, and it falls a little past my ankles. It’s gorgeous. I stared at it. It was exactly the kind of nice I was looking for, too bad it wasn’t a dress.
Yeah, you could practically see the light bulb materialize over my head and turn on.
I pulled the skirt to my armpits and held it there. It’s so long on me that it was actually at a decent length, even pulled up like that. I tried fastening the it on my upper back but it couldn’t reach. There were about two inches of space before the buttons touched. It is a little small on the waist. Four. I think. I don’t know my size. Anyway, I looped two black hair ties together, hooked one end on the button and slid the other end through the button hole, hooking that end to the button too. Problem solved.
Then, there was the little issue of me being shaped like a tent. Not exactly attractive. I took my thick black belt and tightened it above my waist. There we go. I twisted both sides of the belt to fold in the slack part and keep it from flopping around.
Now, there was no way I was going to go to church bare shouldered like that. So, pop quiz: what goes with a black and burgundy skirt? My black leo! A pluses for everyone.
I strapped on my black heels and looked at myself in the mirror.
|Aren’t you glad I described it?
You can barely see the detail in the picture.
There was one minor problem: you could see the looped button on my back. So I let my hair down. It’s long. And during church (when I was standing up, no need to worry when I was sitting), I’d casually scratch my back to make sure my hair still covered it. Kind of high maintenance, but I figured I’d only be wearing the “dress” for a couple hours, and everything worked out.