Ok, Sunshine is now asking for horrible prom stories, and if you want to read what I wrote last year, feel free to go here.
Let's talk a bit about what a pain in the butt it was to find a dress.
Now back then, I had a hot bod. It's too bad I didn't really realize it, but I did.
All I knew was that my upper half was a larger size than my bottom half. And actually that is still true to this day. Because of this, I was very much a separates kind of gal.
It's the boobs, I tell you. They just keep getting in my way.
Dress shopping was sheer torture because something that fit on the bottom didn't fit on the top and vice versa. Beautiful dresses would be stretched to nearly the ripping point on the bust and be perfect on the waist, or my waist floated around in there somewhere and it fit wonderfully up top. It was a seemingly never ending slog, and my best friend Michelle, who truly had a perfect body, listened to me patiently while I bitched.
By the time I reached the rack that held my soon-to-be dress, I was exhausted. I was crabby. Because who ever heard of a two piece prom dress? Nobody, my friends. That's who.
I think even if that dress had been chartreuse, I would have bought it just because it was the first one that actually fit both halves of my body. Thank you Jessica McClintock!
But it was a flirty, strapless little number that looks (to me) easily and horrifically dated to the late eighties.
But hey, at least my hair wasn't five feet off my forehead like some people. You know who you are.