I had an adventure of the more unusual quality last week.
It was a special week of events for the boy’s unit, which always concludes with a formal dinner. I have gone to this formal here in Tennessee in the past (well, actually in a cornfield in Kentucky), and down in Savannah. Every year I wore the exact same brown dress that I bought on clearance from J. Crew seven or so years ago. It’s nothing special, a bridesmaid dress I believe, but I always thought it was funny to wear it every single year because it’s kind of ugly and I don’t care about dressing up or looking fancy. I also never take pictures at these things. Which is why this is the only photo I can find that ‘shows’ my dress in any capacity. And my friend Stephanie is totally NOT naked in this picture.
Anyways, some of my friends ‘encouraged’ me to try something different from this website ‘Rent the Runway’ where you just rent a dress for the night. It’s actually pretty awesome. You pick out a dress you want and they will send it to you in two different sizes the night before your event. Before you ask let me tell you – they are dry-cleaned before they get to you. Then, you wear whatever dress fits you and the next day, stick them all back into a UPS envelope and send them on their merry way. It could NOT be easier. Also, you are seriously only in your dress for three hours TOPS. Totally not worth buying!
I found a dress on this website that I thought had a perfect cut for my body, which is to say there was room to breathe in the shoulders and hips, which is right where I need it. The only thing was… this dress was LOUD. And by that I mean bright pink.
Here’s the deal with pink. I don’t have a problem INHERENTLY with it as a color. But I hate the fact that products, especially in the outdoor industry, are marketed to women by being colored pink. I fucking resent that, actually. Just because I am a female doesn’t mean I need everything in my life to be pink. It’s just dumb. So, at times I definitely go out of my way to avoid pink. But this time, I did not. Also, it helped that it was raging fuschia and therefore better than a pepto-pink or baby girl nursery pink. Barf.
My friend Erika, who knows a thing or two about make-up offered to put some on for me. I thought this was so sweet of her because otherwise I would have only worn mascara, which is the only makeup I have. So she came over to my house and did my hair AND make-up and believe me I was worried because here’s the thing… Yes, I have very visible tattoos. But I am not a tattoo person with weird-colored hair, piercings all over my body, or black eyeliner. I am otherwise pretty suburban-mom looking aside from my arms (well, at least that’s how I view myself without the rug rats screaming in the back seat). And that’s my “look.”
If you can’t believe that even MAIJA has a ‘look’ well, think about it. If you saw me in the winter with long sleeves you wouldn’t think I have another kind of sleeve under that, and that’s EXACTLY the look I’m going for. I was inspired by a tattoo artist in Savannah that always had nice clean-cut hair and clothes. Obviously, he’s not ugly and all my Savannah friends with ink know exactly who I’m talking about.
So, the makeup. Erika promised that I would not look like a $2 whore but I was still very shocked when I saw what I looked like.
Erika, I know, did an AWESOME job. So how she did the makeup has nothing to do with the way I felt. Which is like a drag queen. She warned me that I would probably be shocked every time I look in a mirror because I never wear any makeup so it felt VERY dramatic. I was too embarrassed to go into the gas station to get a drink!
By formal time and with the dress on I felt a lot more normal, also because I stopped seeing myself in mirrors. The formal was at a hotel in downtown Nashville. There’s not a lot to say about the formal part except ALWAYS order a double. Especially when they are ‘closing’ the bar to herd people inside. This one guy just filled up a pint glass with vodka and gave me a splash of tonic. Man, he rocks.
After the formal we had to change to go out downtown. I have to laugh at how the boy thinks people who have been drinking will ever be on time for meeting in the lobby. Or even within 30 minutes of said time. But, he is a NS and being on time is VERY important to him. So after almost falling asleep in the lobby we went downtown.
Here’s where shit got weird.
In the first bar some guy came up to me, got all up close and personal (which I don’t do with people I actually LIKE) and proceeded to ask me why I couldn’t put my tattoos in a glass and shake them. He even grabbed my vodka and water glasses to use as props while he pleaded with me to do this. Granted, I was not sober but this guy was completely off his rocker. I thought at first it was just me – being dumb – not understanding what he was talking about, kind of like the song “Turn Down For What”. One of the guys then hauled him away from me and we went back to normal, which is to say loud and annoying as bars tend to be. Oh, I saw that loser get thrown out of the bar shortly thereafter.
We then went to another bar that was also loud and annoying. There was a girl there who only made one smart decision in the previous 8 hours and that was to put on underwear. All her latter decisions were dumb. Like getting high. And then getting drunk. And then practicing her stripper moves and lap dances in the middle of the dance floor to country music with some guy who could not believe his luck. But, hey, at least she had on underwear.
Striped underwear girl proceeded to come up directly to me in a large group of 15+ people to tell me, personally, that her brother and her boyfriend were going to come beat the shit out of me.
CRAZY! I told her to bring it on and she went out and tried dancing in the middle of Broadway Ave. She then came back inside to tell me how ‘fucking hot’ I was. I stared her down and she told one of the guys standing near me that it was his fault I wasn’t smiling. And I threw in my chips at that point, fully blaming the makeup. Because while it isn’t unusual for me to have others randomly come up and talk to me about my tattoos these crazies were way beyond the norm and I was done. Because of course I can’t even walk up the street at that hour without freakos coming up to ask me ‘what does your fox MEAN???’ Nothing, asshole, I just like foxes.
Yesterday I saw the funniest thing at Publix. This little guy had a brand new Dodge Ram pickup truck. He was so little he couldn’t see very far over the dash and just plowed up onto the curb where the cart return is in the middle of the parking lot. I burst out laughing so goddamn hard. He totally saw me, too. I hope he felt like a jackass because he sure looked like one. I then thought ‘is this why some guys have to drive huge pickup trucks?’ Think about it. You can’t get away with jacking your little Jetta on the curb like that without ruining something underneath. But a truck? No problemo. Just a working theory I have that those guys are HORRIBLE drivers.
Also, totally unrelated. Today I finished up a (self-induced) 30-day rowing challenge. I had to row on my Concept2 as a separate workout every day for 30 days. This was harder than I thought (for many boring reasons I won’t get into here). But I did it! I added up all of my stats this afternoon and discovered that I rowed a total of 237,760 meters over the past 30 days, which is 147.7 miles. I think I need a sticker for my car now.