The women in my Sunday School class got together Friday night for a clothes and accessories swap party. We were all supposed to bring something that was still current and/or something that we didn’t love but someone else might. I carefully went through the closet pulling things out, unsure how well received my clothes would be.
I mean, not everyone loves six-year-old Race for the Cure t-shirts as much as I do.
I settled on a few dresses and skirts that I used to fit into I had tired of wearing and at the last minute also grabbed my gold lame (I can’t find the accent – pretend there’s one over the “e”, and the irony is not lost) jacket and tossed it on the stack.
I bought that jacket on a shopping trip with Cheryl and she was desperate to make me over made me try it on and proclaimed that it was perfect for me and because I have very little fashion sense of my own, I took her word for it and brought it home where it has hung in my closet for the last 15 months.
In my defense, I did try to wear it. Truly, I did. But when the children laughed and Mr. CPQ stood in stunned silence as I entered the living room, my confidence crumbled like a week old cupcake.
I was so hoping that one of my friends at the party would take it off my hands fall in love with it, but alas, all they did was howl talk about how perfect it would be for a party and they made me take it back home and promise to wear it for New Year’s Eve.
Which I will do.
If we’re in Vegas.
Have a nice day.