Tis the season.
All of Jane’s favorite comestibles arrive in all their powdery, sugary, sparkly glory on her doorstep. What is a sugar-addicted girl to do, if she wants to reach the end of December without every horse in the barn hating her guts? Or if she wants to avoid the dreaded Earnest Comment from her spouse: you know, the one that strikes fear into the heart of every woman?
“Uhhh…honey…you look…great! Yeah. Great! No, really! Hey, nice necklace.”
What is a girl to do? She buys herself some protection. Body armor.
This little iridescent number is my drill sergeant. I had a close call last night, on my way home from the barn. My car veered into the Lemon Cake Store parking lot. My car likes me, and doesn’t understand food issues. You need gas? We’ll stop for gas! “No gas! no gas!”, I say, veering back out into the street. Life is complex when you are addicted to sugar and cocktail dresses.
As soon as I opened the back door, this dress would greet me: my own personal sugar bodyguard.
I’m going to wear a cocktail dress this holiday season if it kills me.
Who knew protection came in layers of chiffon?