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Mr. BuSy and the Blah, Blah, Blah

29 Aug

I was talking to my sister last night.  I called her for advice… She’s probably the only person on the planet that knows me… really gets me.  I called her because I needed a dose of reality.  We discussed many things, identified some fun things to blog about…. and we talked about my Saturday night date, who I will call, Mr. BuSy.  Mr. BuSy originally contacted me about a month ago.  We emailed for about a week, while he was traveling for business and then ended the week with a really great phone call.  He finished the conversation with ‘let’s try to set something up for next weekend’.  I never heard from him again… Until Friday.

Friday night I was fiddling on my computer when I get an email from Mr. BuSy.  ‘I’ve had a busy month, I was dealing with some health issues’… blah blah blah.  Of course, it’s all quite possible and I suppose it’s equally possible that he had broken all his fingers and had his vocal cords snipped.  Let’s face it, if he was truly interested, he would’ve contacted me to let me know.  However, since he did apologize, I made the decision to give Mr. BuSy the benefit of the doubt, and agreed to a phone call, which then lead to our date on Saturday night.

The date was pretty wonderful… Dinner lasted 4+hours.  There was definitely chemistry which he confirmed with words and actions–  ‘This was probably my best first date ever’, ‘There’s definitely going to be a second date’… blah blah blah.  I was attracted to Mr. BuSy on so many levels and it seemed he felt similarly. (YES, I broke dating rule #1… Don’t let your emotions get involved too soon).

So after a lovely kiss goodnight, I went home floating on cloud nine and feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.  As the hours passed, I looked back fondly on our date.  Of course,  all the positives were being highlighted in my mind.  As the days passed, however, I started feeling confused.  By last night I was feeling downright depressed.  I didn’t call or text, because I’m old school and believe if a guy is really interested, he’ll move heaven and earth to make it happen.  Maybe he was too busy?  Maybe he had more health issues that prevented him from sending a quick text? blah, blah, blah.   The truth is, if he was able to log into Match last night, then he was more than able to contact me… YES… I LOOKED!

So I called my sister, nearly in tears, to get some insight.  She had to agree– if he was truly interested, he would’ve made the effort to be in touch by now.  At first, I tried to rationalize his behavior… He’s probably just really busy at work.  Maybe he had family issues that needed his attention?  blah blah blah… Ugh… the mind is a scary thing when it tries to drown out the voice of reason.

My sister has this great way of asking question so that you’ll arrive at the truth on your own (a true gift).  What was my truth?  He’s just not into me… enough. I know myself and I know I need more than the bare minimum to be happy.  So what if Mr. BuSy sticks to his pattern and contacts me a month from now… I hope to say (thanks dear sis!)… “I haven’t heard from you in a month and have since moved on… I’m sorry, but I am no longer available”.  That might actually be a true statement… Remember Bachelor #2?  He called again last night and we have a third date set for next week 😉

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A Week Gone by in a Flash…

20 Aug

So I woke up last Sunday to a lovely email from a gentleman from Match.  I had checked out his profile the night before and was thinking about emailing, but he beat me to it.  I emailed back and that was the start of a whirlwind week.

We spoke on the phone on Sunday afternoon… He seemed like a very nice guy.  We had a great conversation.  He was intelligent, witty, sweet… I learned he had a stable career and was a very involved dad.  He had a lot going for him  We agreed to meet the next evening for dinner.  This was the quickest I have ever moved through ‘the process’.  I guess I’m getting to the point now, that I don’t want to waste hours on emails and phone calls, only to meet and realize there’s no chemistry at all.

Monday comes and we meet at a casual restaurant for dinner.  He is extremely warm in person… a big hug… touches my hand over appetizers… says all the right things.  When we leave the restaurant and decide to go for coffee, he leans in for a kiss.  A very pleasant kiss.  He says he’s been wanting to do that since I walked into the restaurant. Another big hug and we’re off for coffee.  He asks me out on two more dates… Friday and Saturday night.  Okay, I think to myself,  this guy is really interested!  He made me feel… good… attractive, desirable… sexy.  It was ‘almost’ too good to be true.

I wasn’t even home yet when I got his first text… ‘I miss you already’.  Sighs… writing this now, I realize just how ridiculous this all sounds.  I totally ignored the ‘too much, too soon’ warning bells going off in my head.  I always wanted to be ‘swept off my feet’.  I saw the broom coming and leaped right in its path.  The week proceeded at a breakneck speed… more texts, phone calls, and requests for dinner dates.  I had plans most of the week so had to politely decline, but changed my plans on Thursday so I could go out to dinner with Mr. Flash.

Another great date. Mr. Flash was charming, generous and totally attentive.  The chemistry was still there and even kicked up a few notches.  I was really looking forward to the weekend.  Then Friday rolls around… I notice that there’s not as many phone calls or texts.  But hey, I chalk it up to a busy day at work.  We meet and head out to a concert.  It’s at this point I start to sense something is ‘off’.  He seems preoccupied.  He puts the radio on, in what seems like an attempt, to avoid conversation.  There are no compliments tonight.  He’s still a bit touchy feely, but even that seems to be on the decline.  After a kiss goodnight… I get a ‘see you tomorrow’ and Mr. Flash is gone.

The texts are now getting few and far between. No phone calls at all on Saturday.  I wonder if we’re still going out.  I finally text in the afternoon and ask.  I word it in a way to allow him to get out of the date easily.  I was rather surprised that he responded with an ‘of course we’re going out’.  Okay, now I think to myself, I’m misreading him.  I’m being too… too… too something.  I decide to go with an open mind and fully intend to have some fun.

When we meet, there is no hello kiss, no hug.  He barely talks to me… instead opts for talk radio.  Actually, he barely looks at me.  There is very little hand holding.  I try my hardest to keep the conversation going, only to be faced with one word muttered responses.  The game sucks, the conversation sucks… the date… sucks.  I can’t wait to get home.  But I’m starving at this point, so when he suggests we stop for something to eat, I open my mouth and say ‘yes’ before even thinking.  UGH.  Dinner was… painful.  Thankfully we were seated near a bar so I could watch TV, because Mr. Flash spent most of dinner playing with his phone.  Yes… You read that right… playing with his phone over dinner.  By this time, I’m utterly disgusted and want to go home.  At my car, there’s a peck good night and he mumbled something like ‘talk to you tomorrow’.

I cried all the way home.  Not because Mr. Flash turned out to be Mr. Flop, but because of my own stupidity.  I’m still wondering how someone can go from 0 to 90, back to 0 in under a week.  Here’s the texts I got today:

Him:  🙂

Me: No response

Him: Hey

Me: 🙂

Him: What are you doing?

Me: Laundry

Him: Awwww

That’s it folks.  That’s all she wrote.  Mr. Flash has now officially become… Mr. Flash in the Pan.  And me?  On one hand, I’m feeling pretty embarrassed, confused and stupid.  On the other hand, I’m proud of myself.  I put myself out there… I allowed myself to be vulnerable… I’m not sure if I was taken advantage of, or, just met someone that doesn’t really know what he wants.   In any case, I’m going to pick myself up, dust myself off and hope that the next broom that comes by is being pushed by someone with a bit more integrity.

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Just When I Thought…

11 Aug

I had successfully dealt with my real life baggage… there’s a new strain of baggage in town… virtual baggage.  Virtual baggage is a by-product of the online dating world.  It’s the issues one develops at the hands of less than savory online daters.  You need really thick skin (think armor) and a strong constitution to deal with the rejection, rudeness and emotional manipulation that online ‘gentleman’ dish out daily.  Of course, I’d be the first to tell you that online dating should be ‘fun’… look at it as an adventure… these men can’t hurt you because they really don’t know you… blah blah blah.  The truth is, the rational side of me knows all that, but the less than rational side falls victim to ‘it’ every time.

I think I’ve fallen victim to virtual baggage. Lately,  I find myself expecting the worst out of the gentleman I communicate with.  The new guys are paying the price for the bad behaviored counterparts that came before them.  Totally unfair… totally out of character for me.  I am usually the one that can find a silver lining in any dark cloud.  I always think the best of everyone… even when they fail misearably, I try to understand the ‘why?’.  Not so much anymore… at least where online dating is concerned.  I’m becoming… gasp… jaded, and I don’t like it… at all.

I have come to equate online dating with buying a new pair of shoes.  You’re attracted to the sexiness of the shoe.  You ask the sales associate for your size and bite your lip and pace around the store hoping that there is a pair available in your size.  When you see the box in his hand, you can’t help but break out into a smile.  You’ve made it successfully to the next step.

Your fingers almost shake as you peel back the top of the box.  You’re breathless as you peek at your beloved shoes through the tissue paper.  You slide them on your feet… oh the bliss… they look fabulous!  Your feet look two sizes smaller and the heel height makes you stand straighter… your boobs bigger and your ass… perfection.  You decide the shoes are magical and will change your life.  So you stand up… You’re confident.  No way in hell your magical shoes will let you down.  You take those first tentative steps, wobble a little and then you’re suddenly striding across the floor.  It’s too good to be true!  You quickly take them off and pack them in their tissue paper home and march up to the cashier and state boldly, “I’ll take these”.

You bring your magic shoes home and give them prime real estate in your closet.  You can’t wait to have the opportunity to wear them.  In fact, you create an opportunity to wear them.  You get all dolled up, nervous for your first date with your magical shoes.  You’re convinced you’ve found your sole mate 😉 and this is true love.  And then… reality sets in… Your toes start feeling a little cramped.  Your calf muscles start protesting.  The burning starts and you’re starting to think these shoes aren’t quite as magical as you first thought.  By the time you get home, your feet are on fire and you can’t wait to pull the damn things off.  You literally throw them back in their box and toss them on a shelf that you’ll never reach without a step ladder.  Every time you enter your closet, you’ll feel the sting of embarrassment as you remember how you overpaid, fell in love a little too quickly and walked far too long in pain… all this for the opportunity to be burned.  Yep… online dating is a lot like the search for the perfect shoes.

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And Then There Was One…

10 Aug

You might want to read Spread The Net… Far and Wide before delving into my next dating drama… So I had a great conversation with B1 (Bachelor 1) last night on the phone.  We talked about everything from politics to favorite movies… shared a ton of laughs… By the end of the call, I was really looking forward to our date on Sunday.  It was at the end of the call where things started to go really wrong.  I was saying good night and he said, ‘Hey, let’s talk about plans for the weekend’.  Okay, I’m thinking to myself, he must’ve enjoyed our conversation and wanted to firm up plans for Sunday.

Let me say, before I go forward, that I turned down a date with B2 for Sunday since I thought B1 and I had plans.  Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite me in the ass.  Anyway, he says that he wants to make ‘tentative’ plans (good Lord… is this an epidemic?  See Tune into Your Intuition…) for Sunday because his friend might want to do something with him on Sunday too.  Huh?  Do I have another Mr. Maybe on my hands here?  I’m not going to lie… this did not sit right with me and the following conversation ensued:

Me:  “I’m sorry… I don’t work that way.”

B1:  “What?  What do you mean?”

Me: “Well, I thought we had plans for Sunday.  Now you want to make tentative plans?  So I’m what?  Your back-up plan for Sunday if plans with your friend don’t work out?  Hmm… No… I don’t think so.”

B1 (totally annoyed): “I should’ve not said anything!”

Me (thinking to myself): So it’s better to make plans and then cancel on Sunday? (evidently he was channeling Mr. Maybe)

Me: “Look, I’d like to go out with you… When you have the time and want to make concrete plans to go out, give me a call.”

B1:  “What? What did I do?”

Me: “Talk to some of the ladies you work with; tell them what you did/said, and I have a feeling they’re going to tell you you’re an asshole.” (Okay… I admit… that comment was totally unnecessary and completely out of character for me. But dammit, I’m sick of this crap).

B1: Silence

Me: Okay, well… Have a good night, I’ll talk to you soon.

I think that’s the last I’ll hear from B1.  I truly believe he sees nothing wrong with what he did and probably thinks I’m some sort of wacko, and maybe he’s right.  But the bottom line?  I’m not settling for anything less than what I deserve, and I think I deserve more than being a ‘tentative’ anything.

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Spread the Net… Far and Wide…

10 Aug

I was talking to a friend last week about my last date that ended up going nowhere.  She said, “You know what your problem is”, I braced myself  for a harsh dose of reality… this friend holds no punches.  She continued, “You’re limiting yourself by talking to only one guy at a time.  You’re putting all your eggs in one basket!  It’s like you think you’re cheating on a potential match if you pursue other opportunities.  You don’t owe these guys anything… You aren’t in a relationship… yet!  You’re just taking them for a test drive to see if you want (or they) want to continue dating.”  Mind you, she hadn’t taken one breath yet.  “You need to spread your net far and wide.  Talk to multiple guys. Date multiple guys.”

I never did learn to juggle, but I ended up, ending our lunch date by promising I’d give this multi-dating concept a try. The best way to stir up some interest and get your profile more attention, is to update it.  That’s what  I did.  Within a few days I had over 10 gentleman contact me.  There was no way I had the time (or patience) to communicate with 10 men at one time, so I narrowed the field to a more manageable three.  Here’s a short  profile/description of each:

Bachelor Number 1 – Funny, intelligent guy that likes to talk.  I think he needs to work on the two way communication thing a bit, but he does actually call me by my name (which I find totally refreshing).  Who knew something so basic would become something so important?

Bachelor Number 2 – Again… Witty guy, very intelligent… lots of similar interests.  Potential issues could be that he’s never been married/no kids…and he lives about an hour away.

Bachelor Number 3 – Seems like a down to earth, honest guy… but I don’t think we have the same views on child rearing (he’s never been married/no kids) and I think… and I don’t mean to be harsh… but I think he’d bore me to death within a week.

I have a date with BN1 on Sunday and a date with BN2 on Tuesday… This is the very first time I’ve dated two different men in the same week.  I’m not sure I’m quite comfortable with it… but since I’m looking for a needle in a haystack, I suppose it makes sense to use two hands instead of one 😉

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Aside

Mr. Charming… Meet Doug…

4 Aug

So I just got home from my date.  Let me say this… Mr. Charming, was indeed charming.  Super nice guy… smart, funny… we had great conversation.  I think he has the potential of being a great friend…. not sure the ‘chemistry’ was there.    I think we’re just at different stages in our lives… maybe the 9 year difference is just too much for us.  He seemed unsure of himself.  I think I’m looking for a take charge kind of guy.  In any case, we shared a lovely dinner, hugged good bye and said we’d talk again soon.  Honestly, one of my better first dates 🙂 even without the chemistry or kiss goodnight… Does that say anything?  Anyway, I finally figured out who Mr. Charming reminds me of… Doug.  Mind you, this is a high compliment as Doug is one of my all time favorite cartoons.

Maybe it’s time to leave the roller coaster behind for a while?  Take some time to focus on myself.  I’ve been really toying with the  idea of joining a gym.  While I embrace my curves, I’m not sure the male population is quite ready to do the same.  I have found the online dating pool for the plus size 40 something woman is more of… well… a puddle.  Pickings are slim folks!   No matter which way you dice it or slice it… being overweight is a handicap in the dating world, online or otherwise.   There’s a part of me that wants to work towards thiness in hopes of leveling the playing field a bit more, and then there’s that other side.  The other side yearns for  someone that finds beauty in my curves and can see me and love me for who I am… right now.

On a much, much, lighter note, I have noticed a pattern with the men I date.  The last 4 out of 5 gentlemen I’ve gone out with have all driven pick-up trucks.  What’s up with that?   Not that I have anything against pick-up trucks or the men/women that drive them, but it is a weird coincidence, no?   Is there some sort of personality trait that is attracted to a flat bed?

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Does the Holy Grail Really Exist?

31 Jul

I suppose we’re all searching for our own list of holy grails in life… especially when it comes to fashion.  Me?  I’ve been on a 40 year quest for the perfect pair of jeans.  I have tried almost every plus sized jean on the market only to come up empty handed.  Oh sure, there have been some that have come close… but nothing has ever checked all the boxes on my list.  My figure can not be squeezed into the typical categories like hour glass, apple or pear.  I’m more of a… block 🙂

If I look for jeans to fit my waist, they are usually bagging off my ass and most likely will be tight on my ‘shapely’ thighs. Luckily I’ve never had to suffer with the gapping waist dilemma… as I don’t have a waist 🙂  The upside of that is I did escape the whole ‘mom’ jean trend as I can not wear jeans that are high waisted… for me it’s like having a tourniquet around my waist, which might work if I stood up 24/7, but, for God’s sakes,  don’t dare try to sit down… Ouch!  I don’t think there’s anything more sexy than a new boyfriend peeling off you jeans for the first time only to find a bevy of angry red lines and indentations ringing your stomach like Saturn.

Some jeans that have come close for me include… Diane Gilman Jeans from HSN, a discontinued style of Denim Lite Jeans from The Avenue. and a 15 year old pair of jeans from Lane Bryant that had a lower rise and no set-in waistband… I still have those jeans even though the inner thighs are practically threadbare.

One sleepless night I was flipping through channels and fooled into thinking I had finally found the holy grail of jeans.  Enter the Pajama Jean.  Could this modern marvel of fashion foolery be the answer?  It took a lot of control not to pick up the phone at 2am to order myself a pair, but I resisted the temptation.  There was something not quite right in the look of the Pajama Jean… yes… you could bend, sit… even sleep in these jeans, but the problem was, they didn’t actually look like jeans… they looked like… well pajamas.  Sighs.. so close and yet so far.  The search continued… endless trying on in stores.  Endless online and catalog orders… the return shipping fees were driving me to the poor house.

Through it all, I couldn’t let go of the idea of the pajama jeans.  It was a good idea… a knit jean. With shaking fingers I tried a new google search… knit jeans… I don’t know why I hadn’t tried that before.  I pressed enter and waited with baited breath.   There it was… LL Bean Knit Jeans.  Bingo!  They looked like real jeans and had a 4.5 star rating (193 reviews… even Oprah said she liked them!).  Since I have an LL Bean credit card, I get free shipping and returns, so I had nothing to lose, plus I had a bunch of reward coupons ready to expire… the denim gods were speaking to me.

It took me a few orders to find the right size (definitely order down a size).  I opted for the bootcut style as they sit lower on the waist and are cut a bit slimmer through the hips and thigh.  They are a little pricey, but when I slipped them on and took them for a test run, I realized you really can’t put a price on comfort and fit.  They hugged my curves without making me look… lumpy.  I could sit, bend, squat without gasping… and it appears the rings of Saturn have been banished to another galaxy.  Because it’s been so darn hot here, I haven’t challenged them to a full day of wear yet… but I am ever hopeful the holy grail is within my grasp.

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Ladybugs… Lots and Lots of Ladybugs…

29 Jul

The day my ex walked out, marked a very dark period in my life.  In spite of knowing there was something very wrong in our marriage, I chose to live in denial and even fooled myself into being shocked when he broke the news.  I told him to get out that night and as the door was closing behind him, I was reaching for the phone… my lifeline to my sister.  I was sobbing so hard, you know, the kind that prevents you from catching your breath.  It took her a while to piece together what I was saying, but when she did… she started screaming,  ‘You’re free!  You’re free!’.  I remember her telling me this was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.  All I can remember thinking was how I was going to raise a young daughter on my own, pay a mortgage with no job and that I was going to die alone.

Mere days later, a package arrived in the mail.  I tore it open to find a dvd.  It was the movie, ‘Under the Tuscan Sun’ (okay no eye rolling).  I put the dvd aside because I was too busy wallowing in the grief of losing my best friend.  I walked around many months like that… totally numb, wondering how I got from one place to another.  I honestly think the only thing that kept me going was the need to take care of my daughter.  My sister would call to check up on me frequently and she always asked, ‘What did you think of the movie?’  I’d look at the dvd sitting on the counter (because who had the energy to clean or put anything away… let’s face it folks, I was on the precipice of becoming a full blown hoarder).  I’d mumble, ‘not yet, but it’s on my list’.

Many months later, late one Friday night, after one too many glasses of wine, I opened that dvd and sat down to watch it.  I know this is going to sound utterly ridiculous, but that movie changed my life.  113 minutes in Tuscany did what hours of therapy couldn’t do… It gave me back hope.  The movie is about a writer who is in a seemingly happy marriage and finds out her husband is cheating on her.  She ends up getting divorced and goes into a depression which her friends try to get her out of by sending her on a trip to Tuscany.  When she gets there, she realizes there is nothing left back at home and decides to stay.  I won’t give too much away, but honestly, this movie should be required viewing for the newly separated, divorced or victim of a break-up.

One of my favorite lines in the movie (the book was excellent too!)  comes from Katherine, who is a friend of the main character, Frances:

“When I was a little girl, I used to run around in the fields all day, trying unsuccessfully to catch ladybugs. I’d get tired and lay down for a nap. When I awoke, I’d find the ladybugs walking all over me.”

What does it mean?  Well in my mind it was telling me I had to just let go and let hope and faith take over.  The movie reminded me that my life wasn’t over, it was just the beginning… Sometimes the best comes later in life.  From that moment on, ladybugs became my beacon of hope.  Hell, if I ever get brave enough to get a tattoo… there’s no doubt it’s going to be a ladybug 🙂  Now… to sit back and wait for the ladybugs to find me (psst… I’m giving them a headstart by renewing my online dating membership :))

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Um… Hello? Really?

28 Jul

So guess who texts this morning… Mr. Maybe.  And no, before you even wonder, I did not contact him.  I got a sarcastic one liner through my Match mail… LOL was he using Match mail again in an attempt to send some sort of message?  Afterall, we have been texting (ad nauseum) and sending emails through regular email for (what seems like) weeks.  I think his goal was to try to make me feel like a jerk because I didn’t tell him to ‘get well soon’.  He says he was in the hospital Thursday night for dehydration… I suppose it was possible and was ready to send an apology when he said that he had hosted a party last night.  LOL… come on… really?  You’re on your death bed one minute and the next you’ve had some sort of divine intervention and are able to host a shindig at your home?

In the end, I did send an email and said that I do hope he’s feeling better.  I also wished him well and said that I wanted more than he could (or rather chose to give me).  I want flowers, phone calls, actual dates and someone that has the balls to make a decision and follow through.  I am not just looking for sex.. dammit.. I want a real, grown-up relationship.  I don’t think I could have been any clearer.

Evidently my email fell on deaf ears because minutes later my phone starts buzzing with his text messages.  When he said ‘Can I disregard your email now?’ I texted back… That would depend on you.  Umm… Hello?  Really?  Sometimes I think men are entirely a different species.

If that wasn’t enough… Mr. Friday Night (from last week) finally responds to my email  saying he’s sorry he didn’t get back to me sooner but he had a busy week (no worries there). He just wanted to say that he really did enjoy our phone conversation last week (okay… good). Umm… Hello? Really?  Do you also remember saying that we would make plans to go out THIS weekend?  No word about calling again or meeting… sighs…I just don’t get it.  Why bother with the email if you have no intention of moving it forward… maybe he’s just being polite?  I don’t know… I’ m beginning to think it’s me.  Is it?

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The Double Standard of Double Chins…

27 Jul

So in the aftermath of being virtually stood up, I escaped to my kindle for comfort.  I am in the process of reading ‘Gone Girl’… which I’m really enjoying, but, I was reading another blog where someone mentioned a play called ‘Fat Pig’ by Neil LaBute.  I love a story where the less than perfect heroine (whether it’s extra pounds, an unsightly scar or just less lucky in the looks department, a la Jane Eyre) gets the unattainable man.  So I read reviews about Neil LaBute’s play.. but I guess I didn’t read enough.  I quickly one clicked my purchase on Amazon and began to read.  Let me say play formats are not my most favorite reads, but hey, I’d suffer through just about anything for a happy ending 🙂  Alas… I didn’t quite get my happy ending.

The story is basically about a chance meeting between a successful, handsome business man and a plus sized librarian he meets at lunch one day.  He falls in love… she falls in love… and well… his friends (and ex-girlfriend) don’t fall in love with the fact she’s a full figure lady.  I found myself cringing through a lot of this play… simply because it brought to light the challenges of being a plus size WOMAN in today’s world; and truth be told, the writer’s words hit very close to home.  I won’t spoil the ending, but needless to say, I had a bunch of kleenex clutched in my hand.   I emphasize the plight of the plus size woman, because I really don’t believe men necessarily feel the prick of weight discrimination the way women do.   There’s definitely a double standard in the world of double chins.

Just look at the online dating world.  I can’t tell you how many profiles I come across where the man is robust (think fat) but claim they are ‘average’ or carrying a ‘few extra pounds’. And yet… they are looking for a kind, honest lady who is  ‘slim’ and ‘atheletic and toned’.  Hey, I get that you can’t help what you’re attracted too, but be honest with yourself (and the rest of the world) as to where you lie on the  body fat spectrum.  What do you think?  Is there a double standard when it comes to double chins?

On a brighter note… I finally found a pair of shoes for the wedding I have next week.  I’m really out of practice walking in heels and as I need a wide width, it’s very difficult to find a shoe that doesn’t make me feel like an elephant balancing on stilts 😉  Aside from the fact… after my dress purchase, my budget was extremely tight.  I ended up with a pair of black patent peep toe platform sling backs…for under… get this… $20!  They were deeply discounted at The Avenue and with a coupon and shipping, I got them home for $23!  The dress is by Adrianna Papell and was $188 dollars at Nordstrom.  I scored mine (new with tag) on Ebay for $67 shipped.  I worry since the wedding is a work crowd that the cleavage will be a bit much, but my daughter says no.  I tried on the size 20 in the store which was a little big and the 18 was a little small.  I ended up getting the 18 and with my new eating plan 😉 it fits perfectly everywhere… just a tiny bit snug on the boobs, hence the abundance of cleavage 🙂  What do you think (and geez.. the photo is not of me):

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