Busting My Buttons

I told this story at work this week.

Then I regretted it, as it portrays me as perhaps even more pitiful than my coworkers already view me...Well, not all of my coworkers, but some, and the some were in the room as I told my tale...After all, my perception (which is probably very skewed) is that they can go buy a new outfit, or (covet covet covet) new knee boots at any time, and not suffer feelings of remorse and guilt...Of course most of my female coworkers don't have to buy clothes for growing children... And they may not have the fear of debt that I have...

Anyhoo, this story was prompted by my friend telling a group of "the girls" in the break room about her doctor scolding her for weight loss.  She is a little bit of a thing, and she is going through a very tough time, and is losing weight she doesn't have to lose...She apparently can't eat when she's stressed.

Can we just stop right here and say I totally CAN'T relate?  I eat when I'm happy.  I eat when I'm sad.  I eat when I'm stressed.  I eat, I eat, I eat. 

Moving on...

She was talking about the revelation that with her dress pants she could move the button over so that they wouldn't fall down!

And then, this story unfolded from my lips.  A story that I regretted starting before I was even barely into it.  Because, clearly none of them could relate, and they were all flabbergasted that I would own such a thing, much less admit to it...

Are you confused?  Well, allow me to explain.

I have this beautiful pencil skirt.  It is black Pendleton wool.  And it belonged to my Grandma Irene who is 91 years old...It somehow moved from Dawn, to Paula, and ended with me....I have gone long periods with not wearing it, but then the mood strikes and a black pencil skirt with my black high heels, or better yet my high heeled knee boots is just the thing.  If you know nothing about Pendleton wool, let me assure you that it is not scratchy.  This skirt has no lining, but it is not itchy at all.  It is soft and warm and gorgeous, even if it is probably 50 years old...

But that is not the story.  Well, the skirt is the story.  But it is really just the background to the story, and you all know my stories MUST have background!

Several Sundays ago, when it was quite cold I decided it was a Grandma's skirt kind of day.  Complete with a bright blue turquoise cashmere sweater and lovely fuchsia scarf tied artfully around my neck.  I was feeling quite pleased with my wardrobe endeavors, Gentle Reader.  Quite pleased, indeed...

As I pulled on the skirt I thought to myself, "My, this sucker is tight.  Oh well, no big lunch with this puppy on!"  And then as I zipped it up, the hook that goes to the hook and eye closure (it has a button on the outside with a hook and eye inside) fell off.  I sat it on my dresser and decided that the fifty year old thread had given out, but I needed to be at church in like ten minutes for praise team rehearsal, so I needed to get going...

I told Studmuffin goodbye and was hollering at the children to please brush their hair before leaving, and was headed out the door when a gigantic sneeze over powered me.

And my button flew off and across the room!

Well, I decided I apparently needed to do garment repair double quick.  I grabbed a spool of black thread and quickly sewed back on the hook, and moved the button over about a quarter of an inch and lo and behold that skirt was loads more comfortable!

I arrived to rehearsal a few minutes late, but praising God that he made sure I sneezed BEFORE I left the house so my button didn't go flying while I was on stage!

Do you know what my coworkers had to say about this story?  Not much, Gentle Reader.  Not much.  They would not believe me that the skirt is a timeless classic.  They were a little horrified that I was wearing a skirt that was fifty (maybe even sixty if I really think about it) years old.

Perhaps that is what motivated me to actually buy new clothes for myself last Friday?

By the way:  My hair was so pitiful today that I actually washed and BLEW IT OUT and then USED THE FLAT IRON!  It took me twenty five minutes just to do my hair.  How do people stand it?  I am so used to just throwing in a little curl cream and letting it air dry as I do various chores.  I think I will have to get my hair cut sometime in the near future. 

My husband stated he loves my hair straight.

"Are you saying you don't like it curly?"

Poor man.  He just can't win.  Regardless, I can barely be bothered to do skin care, so I'm pretty sure my hair will continue to be it's normally wild curly self...

And having straight hair makes me wonder:  How do people with straight hair stand it?  My curly hair stays away from my face and really never touches my skin or face.  My straight hair tickles my neck and is constantly touching my cheeks.  It is driving me CRAZY and my hands are constantly in it...

Yes, I simply MUST schedule a hair cut soon.