Or so I thought. The more I contemplated it, the more freaked out I got. Freaked because this requires clothes that I just don't own or want to own. For the last 25 years I have worked in a research lab where T shirt, jeans and chucks ARE dressed up. I also own a few things suitable for the opera. What my wardrobe is all Mother Hubbardy in is business casual. Yunno trousers, skirts, blouses, heels and hose. I don't own them and try not to get wrangled into having to go/do something where they would be de rigeur. This is what is expected in the restaurant we have chosen. Good Gawd. WTF am I gonna do now?
So off I went to shop.
The launch code had ben activated and as I stood in the dressing room trying on entire cargo containers of clothing, I felt myself become increasingly agitated until I was angry and on the verge of tears. Frustrated with my body. Pissed off at the clothes. My mom was amazingly supportive, but that didn't help with things that were just butt ugly or ill-fitting. The night is supposed to be fun, but the shopping was spoiling it before it even started. If we could have laughed about it, I would have been OK. But all I could see was how each piece worked against me.
I called it quits.
I know the clothes don't change who I am - that person is spectacular. But dammit just once I would like to have something that makes me feel gorgeous.