It’s that time of year again. Time to find the costume for the Winter Formal. It’s in two weeks. Both DJ and Stephanie have dates, which is no easy feat at an all girls’ school. Appropriate clothing may be a more difficult challenge this year.
I took Stephanie to six dress stores last weekend. If it had arm and neck holes, we tried it on. Salesclerks give me the oddest stares. I know they wonder why this dude is the sole adult with teenaged girls in their boutique. I want to wear a sign across my chest: Wife died, shut your pie hole. Instead I try to act like I know what I’m doing, like Clinton from What Not To Wear:
“Texture…nice.”
“Shuuuut-Up!”
“Fit IS everything.”
“A line, much better than the B line.”
After a frustrating Saturday, I sent DJ on the prowl. Within 30 minutes of their departure, I got a text with a pic of THE dress. I thought Stephanie had it on backwards because the zipper was in the front. Why would you need a zipper in the front? It’s not a jacket. You ain’t gonna need to get it off in a hurry!
Whatever…
This weekend we tackled shoes. I took her to a store I thought was called DWI – but it’s actually DSW. There were so many shoes there it upset my stomach. I was overwhelmed. I felt dizzy. I didn’t know where to start.
I felt like a bird; I headed for sparkly shoes. That’s what she used to like.
“Dad. I haven’t worn sparkling shoes since I dressed up like Snow White, Halloween of 2004.”
Although she told me, I kept being drawn to shoes with jewels on them.
“Dad – DO NOT PICK OUT ONE MORE SHINY SHOE! I AM NOT WEARING SEQUINS TO THE DANCE, especially on my feet!”
I pulled boxes off the shelf,she tried them on. I then took pictures and sent them to DJ.
She responded to my first text: “Put them back now! They actually made me throw up a little bit.”
They weren’t that bad.
We finally settled on two pair, both returnable, both by Michael Coors. I liked that cause he makes beer too.
When we got them home, I was told one pair looked like a 50-year-old lady and the other like a Hay Street prostitute.
“Well she must be good because these puppies were expensive.”
The crazy thing is that when DJ returned from her first dance at St. Mary’s School, I asked her if her feet hurt. Her response? “Oh no. We took them off the minute we walked in the door.”
I’m gonna send her behind in bedroom slippers. Shiny bedroom slippers.