The one thing I hate about this time of year is partying… or, to be specific, dressing up for parties. With the exception of my Radley handbag, I’m not very good at glamour. And every year, after a half-hearted diet, I try stuff on for Christmas parties and think I look a complete blob and get all miserable (and reach straight for the chocolate – yes, completely defeating the object, but there you go).
Today I had to do some panic shopping because we’re out tonight and I’m not 100% sure I want to wear what I’d planned to wear. And I found this really nice camisole top in M&S. (In my size, too. Except strictly speaking I am too fat to wear a camisole.) And a really nice hand-crocheted bolero top (which would cushion the fact that I’m too fat). So I ignored them and picked up the kind of top I buy because it’s safe (albeit a tad frumpy). Then something completely mad made me try on the camisole and bolero as well. I liked it but… (unhappy wriggle) I’m not little and slinky, never have been except on my wedding day (and I have been told that I looked fat then – by someone I dislike and who’s not very nice to me, so that might just have been aimed at making me feel bad rather than being the truth).
I chickened out – and said as much to the assistant, who made me go back and try it on (after promising she’d give me an honest opinion and if it looked awful she’d come into the shop with me and help me find something). Verdict: great, but not with those trousers. (I knew that already – said trousers are my comfortable, practical working clothes. )
I have a new pair of black velvet trousers (as opposed to my ancient ones which are only fit for dog-walking), so I decided to be brave and bought the top and jacket. I’m going to try it on and see what DH says. And if he says ‘ick’, it’s going back for a refund tomorrow.
DH will also be pleased that I’ve finally found something I want for Christmas. But it’s terribly, terribly princessy (not to mention pricey). A 100% goose down pillow. I have a feeling he’s going to respond with ‘I am not buying you a bloody feather pillow’ (possibly because I lasted two nights on the last feather one I bought before refusing to sleep on it again. But you can feel the feathers in a feather pillow, whereas all you feel with 100% down is lovely, lovely softness).
Hmm. Well, if he hates the outfit, I’ll return it and go buy my pillow.
Where’s the chocolate?