First, let me start off with a disclaimer:

I believe “fricking” and “freaking”to be huge cop-outs.
However, I could not fight the allure of alliteration and my chutzpah stops just shy of blatant profanity in titles…I think. I may go back on that some day, but not this day.

So, the frocks arrived, they of an earlier post, wherein I hemmed and hawed about what to wear, finally arriving at 2 options. The feedback I received was nearly unanimous in preference for the second dress. Who cares right? I mean how long can you really drag out a post (or series of posts as the case may be) on which dress to wear to an event. Never underestimate my power to milk a topic.

I ordered the dresses from Nordstrom. Shop From Over 500 Brands they tout. Ok. I tried. I found two, they seemed decent. Pardon my seeming lack of enthusiasm. I actually had a delicious time poring over the selection of dresses with the incredible knowledge that my mom was footing the bill. Yup, my mom called and said,

“Write down my Visa number and do it.”

Karma? Are you listening? Send my mom some love would ya?

Armed with her Visa number I really was excited, sort of a mini-WNTW spree courtesy of Mom. There was much fretting about size. I have had 2 children in as many years and I am a bit shaky on what size jeans I wear, let alone semi-formal evening wear. A couple months ago I was swimming in a 10 at TJ Maxx so I held my breath and crossed my fingers as I selected a size 8 for both dresses.

Well, they came. And oh, the delight at just the sight of the box here at Chez Wink. It was palpable.

Can we talk about how awesome it is to have other girls wildly tearing open boxes with me? And they totally cooperated. My sweet girls!

Then came the content examination frenzy. Again, utmost cooperation. Avery took the sheer black & peach number, Briar the black & white halter.

But wait, the dress Briar had was most definitely not black and white. It didn’t look quite right. Was it silver? Never mind I thought, I’ll try on the Avery dress first since no one had it as their first choice anyway. I was so excited. I thought it looked incredible in the photo. I was imagining a skirt that swirled seductively around my legs and a bodice that was flattering and safe for moving around in, since I will be working at the event.

Umm, how do I say this? There was no swirling and certainly no flattering. I closed my eyes as I pulled the zipper, waiting for it to hit the halfway mark and stop, halted by a larger than size 8 torso. When the zipper stopped I opened my eyes to check the damage. It wasn’t going to move another centimeter. It was all the way up and I could have invited one of the girls, maybe even both, to join me inside the bodice. It was at least a size too large, if not two. I am NOT a 4. I am 5’10” and so not a 4. Oh well. Dress # 2.

I took it out of the bag. Definitely silver. Not what I ordered. That’s ok though, I thought. The black and white thing might have looked cheap. But then, so did the silver thing I was looking at. I wondered if it might have a train as more and more fabric poured out of the plastic bag.

“Put it on Mommy. Mommy wear the princess dress?” Briar prodded, while Avery gently gummed the cardboard box.

“Ok, honey. Let me just see how it goes.”

I unwrapped the dress and let it hang from the hanger. It didn’t look right. What was wrong? Did it need to be tied in back?

No. No need for a tie.

It was a size 20. So not only was it not the dress I ordered. It was at least 6 sizes too large. The event is about 10 days away now.

I am, to put it simply, without a plan. If I send the dresses back now with an exchange request included and wait for the return to process, I doubt that I will receive the replacements in time. And then, if they do arrive in time, who’s to say I will have the size right or a style that fits?

Why does this happen to me? Did I do something so awful? I don’t know what to do. I did just get one set of curtains back from the tailor (after two months) maybe I could make something. Totally kidding. Just please world, don’t make me end up in a last minute is that what you wore to church last Sunday* dress.

*I realize that I have not been in a church since…my wedding, no wait, not even then. No, haven’t been in one since my grandmother’s memorial service before our wedding. So right there we know I don’t even have a fucking Sunday best backup dress.