thank god joan and melissa won't be there.

well, heaven's to betsy, where have i been?

busy. lots of lovely things going on that leave little time for lovely blogging, but i hope to resume my almost-daily practice of posting. i miss it, and don't you miss meeeeeeeeeeee?

egads. tomorrow night is the awards ceremony for the New York Innovative Theater Awards. size ate was nominated for a couple of awards that i will not win, but it's a wonderful excuse to totter around in my silver "Barbie" shoes and drink martinis as if i am S.V.I. (someone very important).

as one might expect, what to wear has been the source of much consternation. first, it was to be a frothy, pink strapless number that i got for a song a couple of months ago. sparkly, pink and pretty, but still elegant. then i decided...too sparkly, too pink and too pretty for the Off-Off Broadway awards. for the first time in my life, i felt the need to be weirder.

so, i dug through my closet and unearthed two dresses from the late 70s that i bought at Salvation Army years ago. one's a shimmery champagne gold with a empire waist and a low-V neckline. very Saturday Night Fever. i decided, however, that it just makes my breasts look waaaaay too big (like a pair of pendulous flour sacks, frankly), and i prefer for people to look at me when we're in conversation, and not my flour sacks. the other one is a black, low-cut dress with 3/4 length sleeves and a flurry of ruffles around the neck and wrists. reminds me of something a sexy, suburbanite mom might wear to the neighborhood cocktail party...think Joan Allen in The Ice Storm. so, that was gonna be that. the black dress with a big chunky belt and my silver Barbie shoes. meow.

but noooooooooo....

it had to go and get hot again. like most attire made in the 70s, my groovy dresses are made of the finest quality polyester, which means that in any temperature above 60 degrees, and i would be tres miserable.

screw this. i'm just gonna buy a black top and skirt, add some funky jewelry, and call it day.

so saturday i stopped into Express and tried on a couple of things. i first tried on the size 10 black pencil skirt. hm. too big.

do you have a size 8?

no, but we do have a size 6.

um, that will be way too small.

but i try it anyway. hm. odd. it fits like a pencil skirt should fit...a bit snug, a bit sassy, a bit Doris Day in Pillow Talk.

wait, wait, wait...a size 6? COME ON. i don't wear a size 6. here is vanity marketing at it's goddamn finest. companies make the labels in a true size 10 read size 6, a true size 8 a size 4, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. why? so we'll buy it, that's why, and so we'll come back and keep buying from the store that makes us feel skinny even though we're the same damn size we were when we walked through the door! Banana Republic does it, Old Navy does it, The Gap does it, and now i know Express does it. goddammit! how fucking stupid do they think we are???

(knock, knock, knock on the dressing room door.)

can i help you with anything else?

nope. i'm all set. i'll take the skirt.