After much drama and anticipation the night of my big event came and went. All things considered…
Things to consider being things like bat shit crazy sponsors trying to make me lose my cool –
3 points Amanda, 0 points bat shit crazy nit wits sponsors;
Loose canon lead singers of bands that look like the lead singer of Twisted Sister if the lead singer had been a woman- 
Having to leave my babies to go to set up only to find that the “event coordinator” from the facility had lied and that I had 2 hours to warm my thumbs in the velvety embrace of my ass.
things went remarkably well. Sean and I enjoyed ourselves, even though I was working the event and did a fair to passing job at letting him know that I hadn’t forgotten he was in attendance. We managed to get one dance in and a bit of hand holding, and I actually sat through dinner. The food was great, except for the bits of plastic in the potatoes, but then, from the perspective of the person responsible for the event, if there was going to be plastic in any serving, I’m glad it was in mine.
I have a picture* to illustrate the perfection of the dress and the proof that I had my hair done. Obviously I am biased, but I think that the shot makes me look like one of those women who have a massive chest, that, when seated, looks like an enormous barrel chest/gut. And my hair? Well, the color is great in person and the cut is fresh and kind of choppy. In this photo I think helmet-y is kind and I look like I am pushing 45 not 34. However, it should be noted, that one person, upon seeing me, stopped in his tracks and said:
Giddyup!
I am usually the one who flips out at comments, this one made Sean more than a little annoyed.
Things you can see in the picture:
My bra strap
Jim Zeman
Sean’s new wedding ring.
Things you can’t see:
The black tulle wrapped around the white center of my bra that was visible to anyone over 5’4″
The 3rd pair of stockings I had on after decimating the first 2 as I put them on
Lipstick
Thing you can’t ever possibly understand: How incredibly itchy tulle is.
*For the record, my mom is disgusted with “what you do to pictures in your head”. That said, she is also visibly amused at the boob mountain as gut description, and not entirely in disagreement as I am in person quite pleasantly proportioned.