Booted from my Roost

I was about to start this post when security decided to kick me out of the parking garage. Not only is under the Palazzo shock-creted hell, it has minions wearing yellow. Thank God I’m not wearing my pajamas and slippers tonight; I’m extremely underdressed nonetheless. So now I’m camped on a bench on the retail level in front of two legless mannequins, one of whom is holding the leash of a rather grumpy looking, entirely pink bulldog. They have no faces, but they’re staring at me anyway. They’re dressed better than I am too.

I did a self-acceptance move this weekend (my weekend now being Thursday/Friday, pay attention) – I went to the thrift store and bought pants that actually fit the current size of my ass. A number of people would consider that consent, or at the bare minimum, giving in. But let’s be frank: I don’t want to spend every weekend uncomfortable or join the Sausage People. I’m a grown woman and can admit my dress size gracefully. I’d rather hate myself for succumbing to size 20 and look decent for my size than pretend to still be a 16 and look desperately squeezed and constipated. It’s a trade off I can live with.

There’s elevator music. Why are pink ties so popular all of a sudden? I’m looking at a whole storefront of colors no reasonable straight man would wear. Those legs on 4” heels that just strutted by weren’t bad either. Damn. Not only do I dream about legs like that, now I have to dream about strutting with them in stilettos. I think 4”s is becoming the new norm. I read an article recently claiming that economic hardships bring about the creation of taller high heels for women. We wore flats up until the Great Depression, which spurned the 2-3” babies I wore to prom; now we’re in the “Great Recession” or whatever they’re calling it these days, and 4-5” are pretty common. You know how tall I would be in 4” heels? Nearly 6 foot. And probably limping like a lame duck. Very sexy. Besides, I think it looks funny for a tall man to be dwarfed by his Amazonian lady friend, who eventually will be waddling like a penguin because her $400 heels are killing her.

Very sexy indeed.

Well, I’m ready to go. I’m yawning, plan to get up early tomorrow and get moving, plus I’m facing a ridiculously long day: work, baby photo shoot back to back with red carpet shoot. I might see my bed sometime around 12:30am Sunday. I picked a helluva week to get my life together.

The mini dress is back with a vengeance. What do you think the symbolism is behind a huge tattoo of a blue buffalo head on a woman’s arm? If you come up with anything good, lemme know. I’m stumped.

Thought for a second I was gonna get WiFi in here, but alas, the stingy bastards have security on everything and what I can link to doesn’t have enough juice to let me online. There’s a lot of shrieking coming from somewhere…? I guess I post after we get home. It’s been 20 minutes; this thing should be over by now. Wonder what’s taking so long. I’ll bet the handful of change in my purse that if I lay down on this lovely bench to catch a cat nap, the goons in yellow will be immediately alerted. Better not chance getting thrown out of the hotel and the garage on the same night.

No comments: