Dear Little Blue Dress

21 Feb

Dear Little Blue Dress,

Yeah, I admit it. I saw you before you saw me. Seriously, Little Blue Dress, how could I not? There you were, hanging out at the Ross Dress For Less, looking amazing and fabulous and completely out of place. Like those mythical women you sometimes see in malls, with perfect hair and nails and sunglasses with rhinestone letters on the sides, and you just want so badly to be those women that it physically makes you throw up a little bit. That’s how I felt about you, Little Blue Dress. You were gorgeous and unreachable, and entirely too cool to be seen with me.

But you know what? We hung out for awhile in the fitting room that day, and seriously, we clicked. I made that row of silky pleats fall in just the right way, you gave me those Marilyn Monroe curves that every girl wants when they put on a swimsuit. It just worked. But c’mon, I had to be reasonable. We had nothing in common! You belong at swanky get-togethers were people drink cosmopolitans and say things like mahvelous and dahling and I belong in my living room, playing old Sonic games on the Sega Genesis with watered down rum at my elbow. It just wasn’t meant to be.

Still, though. I thought about you, Little Blue Dress. I thought about you for like two months, and when I saw you again at the Ross Dress For Less, I thought, you know what? This is stupid. I’m just going to take the plunge. I paid the twenty dollars and brought you home, and that night we went out together to a fancy sorority function.

We looked good together.

I might even go so far as to say we looked foine. Especially with the addition of my new clearance earrings and gold peacock necklace. Not to mention my new best friends, The Sexy Boots. You and The Sexy Boots really seemed to hit it off, Little Blue Dress, and yeah, I totally saw the way they were looking at you. You should hook up again. But seriously, the compliments we got? They were pretty gratifying. You even busted out with a little whooshy whooshy spin thing when I danced. I didn’t know you had that in you. It was a pretty sweet night, and I don’t think it would have been the same without you.

I’m pretty glad we hung out together, LBD. I admit, I never really know what to do with you. I can’t really afford most of the places where you feel natural, and I don’t think you’d get along very well with my usual group, Jeans With Ripped Hems and Ugly Flannel Shirt I Found In A Box. But still, we should make it a habit to connect now and again. I think we’re good for each other.

Sound good? Great. Call me.


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Posted by on February 21, 2009 in Letters


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