II left the house this morning in a dress that didn’t feel quite right. I had another one on first, but just as we were heading out the door, Todd noticed it was ripped almost all the way around the bottom. Probably why it was five dollars.
The house is now officially under agreement, and we are fully moved out, but I have not unpacked my things yet. Life. Priorities. My wardrobe is stuffed into moving bags and plastic bins in an upstairs closet at Todd’s house. After Todd pointed out the rips and told me I really could not wear that dress in public, I hurried upstairs to find something else I could reach.
Once I had decided to wear a dress, I stuck with that decision. I knew if I switched plans, I would slide straight back into sweatpants.
Before I go on, let me be clear: there is nothing wrong with sweatpants or wearing them wherever and whenever you want. Before COVID, and even for a while after, I loved putting outfits together. For the past year, it has been strictly about how things feel.
That thing about cancer patients and fuzzy socks is real. Since brain surgery last October, if something is not completely comfortable, I can’t handle it for more than thirty or forty-five minutes.
We were heading to meet some of Todd’s dear friends, and I did not want to be late. I grabbed the first dress I could reach — a nice professional one with a zipper in the back — but on the drive to the coffee shop, I started shifting in my seat. The message was loud and clear: you’re not going to make it in this.
Then we parked. Right next to the coffee shop was a brilliant little consignment store called Pretty Baby.
Real talk: I want to be someone who can commit to not buying anything new for a whole year. But this was an actual emergency. And if it is consignment, does it count as new? (Also, I might still have a thrifting problem.)
I told Todd I was just going to look. Right there on the rack outside was an XS petite maxi dress that looked more like me and was made from loose, cool, comfortable material that could survive the heat of summer and a long day out. (Will it be fall already!)
The owner, Gina, was kind and wonderful. She sold me the perfect dress — still with the original $185 tags — for $75. I may also have found the perfect cocktail ring for ten dollars. I know my jewelry is packed somewhere, but I have no idea where.
Yes, I am on a tight budget, and I am working on it. But I am learning how little money is worth compared to time. The unexpected spend was absolutely worth it to feel comfortable and like myself for the whole day.
It always is.
It wasn’t wash day for the hair, but no matter. Also, you’ll just have to take my word for it that the cocktail ring was worth the splurge, because I don’t know how to add two pictures. :)