Holiday Dressing

I still don't know what to wear to the holiday party on Saturday. I always think I am going to come up with something bold and fabulous and jaw-dropping and then ... I don't. I also always think that I am going to lose weight, and get highlights, and whiten my teeth, and get a pedicure. Then I get really anxious about the fact that I don't weigh 120 pounds and I don't have white teeth and, on one toe, I still have the remnants of toenail polish from my last pedicure in July. 

I'll probably panic the entire week about it, spend all day Saturday throwing clothes and fabric and jewelry around, then break down crying about an hour before we are supposed to leave and decide not to go. Jules will get fed up, pull something out of the closet, and tell me to put it on. I'll argue with her about not having the right underwear, shoes, or eyeshadow until she tells me that she's leaving in an hour with or without me. 

I'll spend the next hour working on my makeup and hair, change clothes, shoes, and jewelry three more times, and try to cram every jewelry item I own, four lipsticks, a spare pair of shoes, and a bottle of wine into my purse. Jules will point out that they will have booze at the party, that I don't need a spare pair of shoes, and that I have a perfectly lovely wristlet that I bought for the express purpose of "going out" - a phrase she will have to explain to me - and that it has room for some cash, one lipstick, and my ID. Since I have never been in a situation where I think I can get by with  some cash, one lipstick, and my ID, said wristlet still has the tags on it.

(I once read something that said you should be wary of girls who carry big purses. Girls with a big purses think they always need to be prepared for everything because they are completely incapable of knowing in the morning what they might do or where they might go that day, and why would you want to be involved with that kind of chaos? I tried not to take it personally and cleaned out my purse the next day... but really, if a purse isn't big enough to carry a knitting project or two, what's the point?)  

After cramming two lipsticks, a lipliner, a compact, eye drops, my ID, my phone, some cash, ibuprofen, gum, and an instant coffee packet into the wristlet, I will try to convince Jules that we need to stop at Macy’s on the way so I can buy a different wristlet. She will, rightly, object. I will change clothes three more times while scheming how to get my knitting bag, a spare pair of shoes, and my Kindle into the car without Jules noticing.

Five minutes before we leave, Jules will dampen and comb her hair, brush her teeth, and throw on a sweater.
She will be hit on five times before we even get to the party.

Maybe I should just start drinking now.