A few weeks ago, I went shopping at Ann Taylor Loft and one of the salesgirls was wearing this darling, chocolate brown shirt dress. I thought it was so cute and then realized, it was right there in the store and available for purchase.
Imagine that.
So, I took the dress into the dressing room and tried it on. The fit was reminiscent of the type of dress June Cleaver wore to vacuum her living room back in the 50’s complete with a belt at the waist, and it was not necessarily the type of thing I would normally wear (and by not necessarily, I mean never in a million years), but thinking about how cute that salesgirl looked convinced me that I needed to have this dress in my wardrobe.
I brought it home and it’s been hanging in my closet ever since. I’ve tried it on more times than I can admit without being committed to some sort of indecisiveness therapy, trying to decide if I really liked it or not. Actually, that’s not correct. I liked the dress, I just wasn’t sure I liked it on me.
It seemed like I might need a different life to go with the dress. A life filled with 3 hot, homecooked meals a day, membership in a gardening club, and a child that doesn’t consider Target to be the epitome of civilization.
I kept wavering between feeling cute as a button or like something out of The Stepford Wives. I tried it on once with a strand of pearls, and when I looked at my reflection in the mirror, it actually startled me.
Anyway, I finally decided that I was going to keep it because, in all honesty, I realized I probably threw away the receipt at about the same time I was trying the dress on for the 411th time. Which should serve as another reminder that my life doesn’t go with this dress.
This morning, I put the dress on.
I walked into the kitchen where P was drinking his morning coffee. I could feel his eyes on me, and briefly wondered what he was thinking since he had missed the other 410 times I’d tried the dress on. The great thing about being married to P is he never leaves me wondering for long before he states his feelings.
Today was no exception.
I was putting some things in my purse when he says, “Ma’am, could you tell me where the card catalogue is located and teach me about the Dewey Decimal System?”
As God is my witness, I am tearing apart my closet tomorrow, looking for that receipt. The dress is going back to the store so that it can find a more suitable owner.
June Cleaver is one thing, but a librarian…that’s an entirely different matter.
***Updated to show y’all a picture of the dress. Remember, I didn’t say it isn’t cute, I just feel like I’m playing the part of someone else when I have it on. And no, that’s not me in the dress, it’s from the Ann Taylor Loft website.