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The Easter Dress

Recently, I reached the pinnacle of humiliation when I felt the compulsion to try on swimwear at Wal•Mart.  I stood in front of a 3-way mirror (which they obviously picked up cheap from a carnival fun house long gone out of business) while I was bathed in fluorescent lighting.

I didn’t think that my self esteem could have sunk any lower.

I was wrong.

With Easter fast approaching, I rifled through my closet and discovered that I had nothing to wear.  And I don’t mean “I’m tired of these clothes, and desire new ones.”  No.  I had nothing to wear.  The only suits that I owned have steadfastly refused to button for fear of the strain, and the skirts obviously shrunk from neglect.

The dresses were in worse shape.  I had one black velvety number with purple flashy thingies that Cailey has been eying.  It has been hanging in the closet since before Emme was even born, and I’ve never worn it.  Frankly, I have no idea how it got there, because no one in their right mind, or over the age of 40, would have the nerve to lay it on the sales counter and fork out good money for it.

But I had it in my head, and I blame my good Catholic upbringing for this notion, that I needed to dress up, in a dress, for Easter.

Therefore, last week I left the children in the care of Aunt Trish, and I headed to Ross.

Everyone else must have been in the same predicament, because I was shoulder to shoulder with throngs of other last minute shoppers, desperately searching for an Easter dress.

At one point, just about the time my eyes were glazing over courtesy of all the paisley, I remarked to the lady to my left, “WHEN DID POLYESTER MAKE A COMEBACK? IT’S A GOOD THING I DON’T SMOKE!”  She didn’t share my taste in dresses or my sense of humor.  So, I moved on.

I pulled out 6 of the least hideous offerings that I could find.  I even had to venture into Juniors and go a size or two up.  Which just irritates me.

And since some of my selections were two pieces, and each one counted, so I had to make two trips into the dressing room.  And you know what that means.  Once you get through your first 6 items, you have to completely redress, pad out to the sales clerk while holding your shoes, and retrieve the last of your outfits.


I was mercifully on the last dress, which had no buttons or zipper.  I pulled it over my head and wriggled it down over my sports bra and underwear both of which have seen better days.  I gasped at the mirror.

I looked like a sausage.

I desperately desired to get that dress off of me as quickly as possible.

But I couldn’t.  I was stuck.

That dress had decided that it had at last found a home, and was going nowhere.

I crossed my arms and grabbed hold of as much fabric at my waist (and I use the term “waist” loosely) as possible and attempted to yank upwards.  While I did succeed in losing my balance and falling into the wall, catching myself by my elbow, the dress did not budge

Then I tried to wriggle it down over my sports bra.  I couldn’t even get it down over one shoulder.

I can only imagine what the other patrons in the crowded dressing room were thinking as they heard me knocking around in that cubicle, short of breath, muttering to myself.

This scenario played out for a good 10 minutes or more.  At last exhausted, I paused long enough to assess my options.

•  I could throw myself at the mercy of a good samaritan and beg them to pull the dress over my head as I bent over.  But then I had to consider the shape of my underdrawers and would I want others to know that my bra and panties were older than most of the shoppers in said dressing room.

If the bra and panties would even still be in place once I was relieved of the offending dress.

No.  I could not do that.  I could be single-handedly scarring someone for life.

•  I considered calling Fiddledaddy on my cell phone and asking him to come rescue me.  But then I’d have to endure all the mocking, and frankly, he would have enjoyed the situation I was in far too much.

•  Then I considered just putting my sneakers back on, marching up to the cash register, leaning over so the cashier could scan the barcode while saying, “I think I’d like to wear it home.”

And then once home, get out the scissors and cut myself out of it.

But happily, because of all the exertion from the struggle and all, I must have lost a few pounds. After a few more concentrated tugs, the dress mercifully came off.

Then I threw it on the floor and stomped on it a few times.

Just kidding.  Sort of.  But they may or may not have lumped that particular dress in with the clearance items after I was finished with it.  Just sayin’.

You’ll be happy to know that on Easter morning, I sported my best pair of stretchy blue jeans.  With a pretty purple button down.  And to feel dressy, I wore my new silver platform Crocs that Fiddledaddy bought me because he was tired of me complaining that I don’t have any girl shoes.

But, he reconsidered his purchase when he saw me teetering across the floor.  And made mention that he hoped the Emergency Room was open on Easter.

I’ve come to the decision that dresses are no longer for me.  Good riddance.  As a mom of young children, I need to be able to drop or run at a moments notice.

And besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve been banned from Ross for all of eternity.


15 Responses to The Easter Dress

  • OH MY WORD!!! I can hardly breathe from laughing so hard….I can hardly see from tears running down my face!!! My husband just looked at me like I was crazy and asked what I was reading…I couldn’t even speak!!!!

    I feel your pain…I’ve been there….sweat beading up on your forehead…not a happy place…

    Oh I can’t thank you enough for such a great laugh on this Monday morning!

    God bless you!

  • I have tears of empathy running down my face. Okay, maybe some of hilarity as well. Just one and a half.

  • Well at least you made it to church, Hubs and I spent the morning on the bathroom floor with food poisoning! I was so broken hearted that I missed church.

  • Oh dear… are you sure you weren’t watching me get dressed yesterday? ‘cuz that was my same story… only I was in my closet, 45 minutes before church, frantically trying to get out of my faithful spring dress that apparently shrunk two sizes in the last two years. sigh…

  • WOW! I too know the pain and agony of the dressing room experience! Been there done that too many times!!!! I have found a much better way. I love Coldwater Creek. I discovered their outlet/clearance items online which can be at the fraction of the original price. I peruse their selections at my leisure, purchase about ten or so items, have them delivered, and I am able to try them on in the privacy of my own bedroom (which has a much more forgiving mirror!). Those items that dont work I pack up and return with the enclosed shipping label. Can’t get any better.

  • As long as Jensen is a part of your life…..pants are probably a very good idea!

    Unless, you are looking for blog fodder! hahahaha

  • I too have given up on dresses for church. I am a mom of 3 boys 5 and under and my hubby leaves 2 hours before me on Sundays, so I am on my own for getting ready. It makes life much easier and more comfortable!

  • Been there, done that. Stuck. Something about the panic mode makes you swell up. It’s always best to just breathe for a few moments and let things loosen up.

    Oh, and I wore pants to church on Easter for the first time in my life. I was cold, my church is casual, and I can get away with stuff like that.

  • I was seriously laughing out loud while reading this post. Haven’t we all been there? I do think Brooke has a good point, don’t you? 🙂

    Spent a year in Uganda (2001-02), deep in the bush where only street walkers wear trousers. I owned one dress. Clearly had to do some shopping before we left. I discovered the joys of jumpers and floaty dresses with yards of fabric that hung down to my calves. They’re surprisingly cool in the hot weather, and as long as they’re loose they’re comfortable as well.

    Still prefer the trousers though. Glad they’re culturally acceptable where we’re at now 🙂

  • A dressing room should be lit by one, small candle only.
    I am convinced that my flesh (and my fat) are much more appealing and less noticeable when I am in partial darkness.
    I wore something in my closet on Easter, and re-committed to following my diet. Then today I came home from shopping for something new today and cooked porkchops with mushroom gravy.
    What can I say. I was in mourning.

  • Oh yes, I feel your pain or strain.

    I am so done with dresses. I was in jeans and a nice shirt myself. God is after our heart not our dress size. Or He would have kick my fat butt to the curb years ago. 🙂

  • You had me laughing out loud, yet again. Not unusual while reading your posts. Thanks. 🙂 And it’s nice to know everyone else has those dress issues as well…..

  • Oh my goodness, that was HILARIOUS! I can just see you struggling in that dressing room, weighing your options! ROFLOL!!

  • LOL!! I have SOOOO been there! In fact, it sounds like the trip I made to Ross about a month ago..only I thought it would be smart to take my 2 1/2 year old who spent the whole time opening the door every 5 seconds in the fitting (or not) room!

  • I wore jeans to church on Easter Sunday too. Blasted dresses!