I know.
I'm a sinner. I've not updated in a few days, and yet I've still managed to leave a note in Paul's guestbook telling him to get off his arse and update. I'm a sinner.
Right - today is my last official day of the Holiday Schedule On-Again Off-Again Operation Mini-Skirt. The result? On this last day of the year, even though I have to make sure I fit into the ridiculous hottie dress that I bought for the evening... today (insert clarion call here) I'm going to scarf down a #1 Combo at McDonalds. And nobody's gonna tell me different. I feel good, I feel fine, I'm back on tomorrow, and the structure of going to work again will help me maintain the discipline I had achieved before the evil fat-injecting holidays. (Seriously, I'm beginning to think that Christmas is a holiday invented by grocers and diet centers.) But today, ah... today... is different. The last day of the year. The cusp of a new dawn. And a new wardrobe.
* * *
So, tonight. I and 10 of my friends will be going to dinner at Rocco's Plum Tomato, a pretty acceptable Italian restaurant, even by my father's Italian restaurateur standards. Then, we will be joined by 6 others at Bohemian, the final destination for the year. Dancing, much drunken laughter, champagne and a new dress. Who could ask for anything more?
* * *
Yet more foundation garment woes. For this particular dress, I had to purchase my first strapless bra. Now, the thing about buying it is that I'm not sure what it's supposed to look like! I had my sister with me, but for the love of God, she's got no boobs! She can't help me! So, I gather a plethora of different brassieres, hoping that one in the bunch will look right. Plus, what with Op:M-S, the Girls look a little different now. Not smaller per se... but... less... bountiful. So I gather a couple of different sizes in the armload before entering the changeroom. Argh! First of all, when there's no straps to hang from your shoulders, putting one of those things is damn hard! You're fastening in the back, and the whole front will flip forward. (I swear, the meaning of vulnerable is standing in a changeroom naked from the waist up, behind a door with a lock that can be picked with a big breath.) Right, so there I am, and I've managed to get one on. After yanking and adjusting, scooping and shifting, tucking in the stray bits at the bottom and then making sure you don't have spillage from the top - you don't want Four Boob Syndrome from the north end or the south, after all - anyway, after all this, I do The Test.
I bounce.
I jump, and dance; shimmy and shake. I do a veritable stripper act in the mirror to make sure those puppies stay intact. The winner, after trying on 8 bras? Weirdly enough, it's called a Triumph Bra, actually, so really, it SHOULD be the winner, don't you think? Of course, then I have to go find the $17 underwear that match it...
Underwear woes... I won't even bother with them.
Happy New Year, my lovelies. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing... please be safe and have a good time.
See you in 2003!
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