“Those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” Friedrich Nietzsche
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I’ve been a Dancing with the Stars enthusiast since the first episode aired back in 2005 and in all those years of live television I’ve not witnessed a single embarrassing wardrobe malfunction. It’s an awe-inspiring phenomenon that never ceases to amaze me: all those well-endowed females gyrating in skimpy outfits and never an exposed boob or butt cheek to speak of. Then I did it. I said YES to the dress and…
I ruminated for weeks before pulling the trigger on commissioning this dress. Yes. I said “commissioning,” as in, paying a premier dress designer to create a one-of-a-kind dress made expressly to fit me like a second skin. I’d tell you how much something like that costs, but every time I utter the number I need a Pepcid.
Anyway, as if one dress, festooned in more crystals and sequins and fringe than the sum total of all the bedazzled clothing I’ve owned in my entire lifetime wasn’t enough, I went and bought another one. Why? Because it fit like it was made especially for me AND IT WAS ONLY $800! That’s why. No weighing the cost against the benefits. No consideration of need versus want. No worrying about starving children in third-world countries. No consulting the husband and dare I say, not a hint of buyer’s remorse. I simply said yes to the dress… just… like… that.
Pigs are flying.
Perhaps it is the manifestation of an overdue mid-life crisis (minus the plastic surgery and cabana boy). Perhaps it is a safeguard… you know, like carrying two tennis racquets in your bag in case you pop the strings on one. Or perhaps, since there’s been little room for crystals and sequins and fringe among the trappings of a woman held captive for two decades in the testosterone zone (i.e.raising two sons), I’m simply making up for lost time. Whatever the reason, I did it. No consulting the husband and dare I say, not a hint of buyer’s remorse. I simply said yes to the dress (make that dresses)… just… like… that.
Copyright © 2014 The Dancing Housewife All Rights Reserved
Suddenly it all makes sense. Ballroom dance dresses have as much, if not more, structural reinforcement as modern-day suspension bridges. No need to worry about errant lady parts flopping loose should I mambo a little too vigorously in the heat of competition.
I ruminated for weeks before pulling the trigger on commissioning this dress. Yes. I said “commissioning,” as in, paying a premier dress designer to create a one-of-a-kind dress made expressly to fit me like a second skin. I’d tell you how much something like that costs, but every time I utter the number I need a Pepcid.
Anyway, as if one dress, festooned in more crystals and sequins and fringe than the sum total of all the bedazzled clothing I’ve owned in my entire lifetime wasn’t enough, I went and bought another one. Why? Because it fit like it was made especially for me AND IT WAS ONLY $800! That’s why. No weighing the cost against the benefits. No consideration of need versus want. No worrying about starving children in third-world countries. No consulting the husband and dare I say, not a hint of buyer’s remorse. I simply said yes to the dress… just… like… that.
Pigs are flying.
I still can’t say for sure in what universe an $800 dress is a bargain because by any rational measure IT IS NOT and on top of that I AM A FRUGAL PERSON. Anyone who knows me knows this type of behavior is not typical. Except for an occasional toasted almond coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts, I never splurge on things for myself. NEVER. That’s why this radical flip from fiscal conservative to impulsive consumer is inexplicable.
Perhaps it is the manifestation of an overdue mid-life crisis (minus the plastic surgery and cabana boy). Perhaps it is a safeguard… you know, like carrying two tennis racquets in your bag in case you pop the strings on one. Or perhaps, since there’s been little room for crystals and sequins and fringe among the trappings of a woman held captive for two decades in the testosterone zone (i.e.raising two sons), I’m simply making up for lost time. Whatever the reason, I did it. No consulting the husband and dare I say, not a hint of buyer’s remorse. I simply said yes to the dress (make that dresses)… just… like… that.
Copyright © 2014 The Dancing Housewife All Rights Reserved
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Loved this entry. I competed at Nashville Starz last week. On Thursday I was ready to quit and by Saturday, I, too, bought a new dress. What a three day roller coaster ride. My husband is, fortunately, 100% behind me and was there encouraging my purchase. I have danced for years, but buying “that” type of dress is so foreign to most folks. I think my wedding “dress” cost around $250!!! I hope you enjoy your first competitive dance experience. BTW, I have two “grown” sons myself and hope to meet you one day at Dance Tonight. Rex and Rachel are terrific.
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