This weekend, it’s all about girls and gowns.
My friend Carrie and I are trekking down to Kentucky, where we will promptly demand our Regency ball gowns from my industrious seamstress of a sister, the Blonderrificus Totalus: Erica.
Okay, so we won’t ‘demand’ them–that doesn’t sound very nice. Instead, we will ply her with food and bribe her with drink and cater to her every need, because our beauty is in her hands. Will she flatter my bosom, or make it disappear like it tends to do? She wields power, though she may not know it.
Please click here to review the glory of these Jane Austen-style gowns. Here’s a sneak peak of a picture shamelessly stolen from Erica’s blog.
I like the blue sash the best, and the word ‘bum pad’ cracks me up so much that I think I must have one.
It will be a weekend of fittings, sewing, and trying to throw together some semblance of an outfit for my sweet spouse who probably doesn’t even know how he ever got conned into going to a Regency Ball in the first place.
A Regency what? Wait, when? Wait, I have to wear what?
It’s called a cravat, and it’s nothing to be frightened of, sweetie.
Yep. Gentlemen, take note on the unexpected sacrifices of marriage.
So this weekend: there will be delicious food. There will probably be massive amounts of popcorn. Possibly girly activities such as toenail painting. I may even bring myself to shed/shave/rip the hair from my winter legs. Think: grizzly bear after months of hibernation. I must do something about this if I ever hope to wear a skirt again.
And I can’t wait for the car ride with Carrie. There’s something about a long car ride with a girlfriend that invites confidences. Long, pleasant silences. Snacking, music, and emotional revelations are bound to take place.
So that’s where I’ll be. What are you all doing? And for the girls: when do you get your girl time in? I never seem to get enough of it.