Prom Dresses, originally posted May 10, 2008

Once upon a time, I had another blog. Like this one, I rarely posted but even less so. I happened across the blog while cruising through pages I'd bookmarked ages ago and decided, rather than maintain that blog, in any form, I'd move some of the posts over here.

I wrote this entry back in May of 2008, seems like a world away now...

A friend of mine recently lightbulbed an idea for her 40th birthday party. She encountered some ladies at a comedy club all dressed to the nines in the best of their worst prom and bridesmaid dresses and thought it was a fabulous and fun idea. It brought me back to about a year ago when I decided to try my old prom dress on, just for fun.

I'm 37 now, so I was 36 when I attempted this feat, about 19-20 years after my Junior Prom (I didn't go to my Sr Prom).

Damn, I was small back then (same height). I know I've put on about 10 lbs each decade but I also know that I'm still very small so wha???? I was sure I'd be able to fit into it. No way, no how.

I slipped it over my hips (ok, slip might be a slight exaggeration even with the zipper being fully open) and then I adjusted it to my waist and prepared to zip.... No can do. My waist is big enough that it was wildly difficult.

I pushed onward. After all, I could just move the skin that was blocking the zipper, right? I sucked my stomach in to minute proportions and then proceeded to zip...

Until I hit my rib cage. Now, keep in mind that I cannot breathe do to sucking in my stomach -- there isn't enough room in the dress to relax as the waist is so tight, it won't even go to the pucker stage; I'm stuck in the sucked in position.

But I must zip the dress.

So I try to shrink my rib cage through strange and evil contortions. I briefly consider removing a bottom rib (hey, they did it back in the day, why not now?). Bad idea.

Finally, I come to the conclusion the zipper isn't moving up no matter what contortions I might try.

I consider a brief diet just so I can say I still fit in my prom dress. Then I realize it wouldn't be a diet, it would be an all out war on my body and health. Sigh...

It's time to unzip the small portion I was able to zip, and admit defeat.

Oh no!

All my efforts have strained the zipper. I'm stuck. I start to panic.

Remember, I can't really breathe -- just shallow upper-rib-cage-only breaths.

What will I do?

I don't want to cut the dress. If I cut it, I won't even be able to donate the dress when I finally let go of the idea I'll wear it someday in the far, far future when I become a skeleton-like 90 yr old (you know the ones I'm talking about; my body type tells me I'm destined to be there someday). Plus, it was really expensive back in the 80s. The glorious big-haired, too-much-eyeliner-80s.

I suck my stomach in 1/2 an inch more. I don't know where I found it in me. I turn the dress so the back faces the front. I work the zipper and FREEDOM!!! (Can you hear the angels sing Hallelujah because I sure did in that moment).

I drop the dress to the floor and step out of it. Defeat.

But wait...

I remember, it had to be altered to fit my teenaged body. Perhaps there's hope after all...

Perhaps, a tailor could let out the seams and I might don the dress again someday...