Last week I dropped in to read some of his posts and found a few gems he had entered since I last stopped by:
- “Had my Metamucil. Guess that makes me a Regular Baptist.”
- “Thou shalt not repeat that chorus one more time, for we get it already. #10 Curmudgements.”
- “Turns out Amos wasn't planking after all. Services will be Friday.”
- “In an effort to attract aging baby boomers, we are now the Seniorz Ministry.”
- “We can drop innovation in its tracks at fifty yards. We are…the senior saints phone list."
After returning home from a recent shopping trip empty handed, I spent quite some time stewing over the fruitless afternoon. That was when Mr. Curmudgeon came to mind and I decided maybe I should start a Twitter Account and become known in Twitterdom as, “ShpnCurmudgeon.” I’m sure my common sense approach to fashion would seem curmudgeonly to Boomers, Gen-Xers, and The Millennials.
The outcome I desired when I went to the department store was to return home with a nice dress to wear to a wedding. Not mother-of the-bride or mother-of the-groom standouts, just a little number that would cover a portion of my body but not scream, “Bag Lady,” thus causing all of my relatives to sit on the other side of the room and pretend they have no idea who might have invited me to the wedding.
Saying, “A dress to wear to a wedding,” to the cute little sales assistant was followed by being directed to a section of clothing where all of the garments had been created using fine fabrics. The dresses differed in design but were alike in that the top portion of each dress was covered with blinding ornamentation - well, the fraction of the tops that were included by the designers. I have decided that tops of dresses designed as wedding attire are conceived on Friday afternoons when all of the designers are anxious to begin their weekends. No time for sleeves or necklines!
The fall wedding to which I’m invited will be held outdoors. The place is
. I suspect I won’t need to expose cleavage in order to stay cool. But then maybe I have a totally distorted image of October weather in the Northeastern section of our country. Connecticut
In addition to questioning how low-cut my dress can be before every other guest is able to estimate my age to within one day and three seconds, I have a few other questions.
1) Will I be able to do enough arm flab exercises between now and October 15 to trim the old arms sufficiently so I can wear a top with spaghetti straps and not freak everyone out? (Who would ever have guessed that the shape and size of spaghetti – a food – would one day be copied in fabric and used as the part of the dress that insures everything stays in its appropriate place?)
2) How many of those Body Shaper undergarments will I need to wear in order to negate the gross effects caused by the stretch-factor in fabric that can turn a dress into the shape of a broom handle when it’s suspended on a hanger?
3) How short is too short for a skirt when the wearer has been a senior citizen for more years than she cares to (or maybe can) remember?
Link to ChrchCurmudgeon: http://twitter.com/#!/ChrchCurmudgeon If you are of a “certain age” you might enjoy!