Thoughts

We are coming up on the two year anniversary of Dad's death, which has obvious baggage associated with it.

But here's the intrusive thought that keeps popping in my head:

I hate what I wore to my father's memorial service.

To be fair, I didn't have time to do lots of shopping, and I didn't have tons of money, and...whatever.

I ended up in a navy blue v neck dress with ill-fitting pantyhose and ill-fitting blue flats. And fake pearls.

Here I am in the same outfit a month later, at a wedding, awkwardly dancing the Hava Nagila.

Third from right, lots of chins.


My mother and sister were both lovely.  My husband looked handsome in a black suit.  My brother-in-law and nephew were GQ, and GQ Jr.

And then there was me:



I know I need to just get over it.

I delivered a nice speech about my father.  Funny, poignant, heartfelt.  I blew it out of the water.

I just wish I had looked less:



That's what keeps me awake at 4AM.

Comments

Possibly it's because I go for the slightly, er, heavier, ladies, but you look fine to me.
Possibly it's because I go for the slightly, er, heavier, ladies, but you look fine to me.
You are so beautiful, you know? Just leaving that there.
ae said…
Thanks, y'all. I'm obsessing on something to avoid obsessing on something else... so, you know - I appreciate the kindness. : - )