July 3rd, 2009
Because I’m sick of my existential self and emotionality AND needing to write about feelings every godforsaken second, let’s go superficial instead.
What do you say? I think fluff could be fun and I’m real good at it.
So as you may know, I will be attending my brother’s wedding in Manhattan in early August. And as I am a soccer mom in complete and utter denial, I have these grand illusions that I can look hip and urban and un-lame while dressing for the festivities.
I know. Just humor me.
That means please look at the below and tell me what to wear to the reception. The party will be on some rooftop deck, Empire State-viewing blah blah blah and way cooler than I.
But first. A few things to take into consideration:
- I am 40, but use Retin-A and am hoping for the best.
- I am salon blonde and have a big nose.
- My boobs are down to here.
- My butt is out to there.
- My thighs are over yonder somewhere.
OK, for reals, because I truly need some honest consultation, here are my stats:
- I am 5’7. I weigh 137.5 today. But probably not tomorrow. Or when the wedding is.
- I am a C. Or a D, E, F, G, and Z, depending on the bra.
- I don’t know what my season is. Can someone tell me? Maybe it’s a summer? (Although on the inside I am assuredly an Autumn or late barren Winter.)
Here’s my face:
Here’s my body:
(I purposely darkened/blurred the photo, askewed my accessories/bra strap/neckline, and banned all makeup so as not to obscure your good sense with my dazzling (and indie) beautifusness.) Also, I have no idea what is up with my right ear. At about 37, it decided to pull away from my skull and go all Pee Wee Herman.
Enough. Without further ado, here are the dresses. Please just tell me which one you prefer, and of course, which would complement my inner beauty.
And while I’m at it, I know this is a completely self-absorbed post, as is the rest of my blog, but if you want altruism, I guess go read Dooce or something.