Christmas Eve, the Closet and Church.

Part Two.  (See Part One here.)

Mumbling to myself, many expletives in, I quietly (yeah, right) resign myself to the fact that there was no hope for the golden bubbles pencil skirt tonight.  Le BIG FAT sigh.

I figure I can find another pencil skirt, in a heartbeat.  Well, no dice.  Most of my good pencil skirts had already been worn (and were set to go to the dry cleaners) or were just too spring-y.  So I had to go with a back-up, which I thought just looked okay.  (But I wanted to look like spun sugar on a white cashmere cloud, darnit.)

Can you tell that the words *&%$^*# and %@*&^% were going through my head?  Can you tell that I was about to start crying?  (I know, I know, the outfit is fine.  It even looks decent.  But I will remind you of the big three strikes I mentioned in part one--PMS, no DANG church envelope, and SPLIT SEAM--SOB!)

This skirt is the very lovely blushed tweed pencil skirt (in a vanity size 6, mind you, did that help, nope, not on Dina's dramatic day). 

I opened the Boucle de Souffle up and discovered that I liked the way this outfit looked better, but I still felt TRAGIC.  (I am so very glad I am not really 15 anymore, one evening was way more than enough for me.)

Let's move onto the church, shall we?

Well, we were late.  By 5 minutes.  Which is normally never a big deal, especially on the Saturday evening 5:30 pm masses, which are usually ghost towns (which is why we go--meet exhibit a--Rex, and exhibit b--CW).

Turns out that 6 pm Christmas Eve mass is the family mass and EVERY. SINGLE. FAMILY. that is part of the parish (and their extended families) were at church that night, and every. single. space. was full.  (Where are you people at the Ghost Town masses...hmmm????  I only ask with a bit of accusation in my voice.)

Well guess who decides that he/she wants to be just awful?  Yeah, that's right.  My darling, precious, very nicely dressed up (no wardrobe malfunctions there, thank goodness for small favors, I suppose) sweet Rex and CW. 

So guess who gets to go out to the lobby (cold lobby, mind you) and teach Rex a lesson the entire rest of the mass?  Yep.  Me.  (Probably a bit of a martyr, me, but well, I will remind you of the PMS.)

Thankfully, my family got that I probably was at the end of my tether and said that even getting to mass was more than enough and making it to Communion was great, so they walked me and Mr. Delightful outside.  As soon as the real cold wind hit my face, I grabbed my step-mom, held her back, and immediately burst into tears.

"Blubber, blubber, blubber."

"What's wrong, Dina?"

"Snot, Tears, Drool, my pretty skirt split up the side and I couldn't wear it, and we got to mass late and we couldn't all sit together, and I am having my period, my kids are terrible, I am a horrible and fat mommy, and I just want to have a drink right. now."

"Okay." 

To which she then put me in the same car with her and my dad, told Jim to take the kids on ahead to the house (we were having our traditional Christmas Eve present opening party there at my childhood home--see part three for more on that), and then soothed me like the over-wrought little baby that I was.  LOL.

I did get wine, I did get amazingly perfect presents, and best of all, I eventually happened upon the exact combo of clothes that made me end up feeling great about myself (PMS be damned).

Part Three to come. 

Christmas Eve, the Catastrophe.

Part One. 

Setting: The house, 5:15 pm.  Mr. Dina is running around trying to get the kids ready for church, which is at 6, and if we. don't. leave. right. now. it will be nearly impossible to find someplace to sit (see part two of this Christmas Eve story--to be published later).  I am running around trying to find the Christmas offering envelope so we can put our offering into it.  I am also suffering from quite possibly the WORST pms ever.  I am feeling 15 again, except instead of having my dad to take care of everything when I feel like complete crud, my advanced age and station in life means that I have to take care of everything, regardless of how I feel.  D'oh to growing up.

Do I find the envelope?  No.  Is it worth it in the end?  Definitely not...as attempting to find the blasted envelope instead of just creating a new one with our Family # on it caused my now infamous (at least in my family) meltdown supreme. 

I had dressed oh, so pretty.  I felt like spun sugar on top of a white cashmere cloud.  I felt sparkly, light, and fresh.  It helped my PMS tremendously to be so dressed up and ready to go.  Then the incident occurred.

See what I mean?  This pic (and the two below) were taken before the incident.  Part two (of the three part saga) will show my sad, scowly self in a different look. 

The jacket is the luscious Boucle de Souffle jacket by Elevenses (Anthropologie), size 6.  I had desired this jacket for months before I was able to grab it the one morning that it was on sale (sold out on sale almost immediately).  The skirt is the very pretty Golden Bubbles Pencil Skirt and in the end, the very reason I just couldn't take it anymore on Christmas Eve.  I took it in a size 8 (which is my pre-vanity sizing J. Crew pencil skirt size, I take a size 6 in the double serge wool pencil skirts, fwiw).  The tee is the drapey sequin tee in heirloom pink in a size extra-small.  The heels are an ancient pair of Coach leather pumps in gold.

P.S. You can totally tell that this is pre-meltdown as Mr. Dina seems happy and not worried about the mental state of his wife.  LOL.

Boucle de Souffle open.  The drapey sequin tee is the perfect top for the bubble skirt...it has a similar tone, and the visual differences in texture are interesting, not jarring.

From the side. 

I adore winter white/cream for dressy events in the winter...something exceedingly elegant about the color in such a dark time of year.

So why did the skirt cause me such a rough night?

1. I am PMS-ing.  Strike one.
2. I can't find the BLASTED offering envelope.  Strike two.
3. While bending down to look in my purse for the darned envelope, my left side seam SPLITS right open.  Not the right side seam, not the lining seams, no just the entire outer fabric LEFT side seam.  Strike three.

I start balling.  (Which I continued to do off and on until we get to part three of this saga--you all will enjoy the absolute perfection of why I stopped balling like a weepy little girl). 

I know it isn't me, that indeed it is the workmanship of the skirt (really, J. Crew?  the lining is completely intact, in fact in great, perfect shape, yet the outer seam is ripped?  really?), but I can't help but immediately think--I am such a fat, horrible, bloated cow of a woman who can't even find the darn church envelope.

Now, a whole week late, I am actually cracking up over it all, but at the time, it seemed just terrible.

Part two and three will be published later today, with part two showing the alternate skirt/outfit and the details of my awful time at church, and part three will show what outfit ended up making me feel a whole lot better and the awesomeness of the presents in conjunction with the night's events.

Have you all ever had something like this happen, you know a set of events, that when put together, make for such a dramatic time?  Any other great wardrobe malfunctions out there?  :)

Talk with you all soon...