So a quick rundown on how I spent my Saturday in misery:
1) The Dallas Private School Preview
2) Shopping for outfits for my reunion
Now of course number one was pure torture and a great reminder why I don't belong in Dallas. It was pouring down rain,and we had to stand in lines waiting to get on little buses like refugees from a war, but in addition, I got the hear things like, "how many of your students end up in the Ivy League," from the parents of an 18-month-old child in a Burberry outfit. SICK!! Now you all know my Dad ain't paying for no private school, but I felt like I needed to do some serious due dilligence in case SD ever goes postal. You know, like if I'm testifying at the penalty portion of his trial, I want to be able to say, "well, I looked at some of the best schools in Texas, but unfortunately, I couldn't afford to send him to any of them, so that's why he is a homicidal maniac." Gotta cover the bases.
Of course, number two was by far more harrowing than number one. I went to Nordstrom and literally planned to spend whatever it takes to make myself look super awesome (read: 20 pounds lighter) for my reunion. We had the personal shopper and everything. Something that my Dad was extremely worried about and in fact told me, and I quote, "Personal shopper? I'm a personal shopper - here's a tube top and a sparkle skirt. Done." But I digress. The personal shopper was super sweet and didn't even vomit or ask me to leave when I told her my size, but literally, I could find absolutely NOTHING that didn't highlight the fact that my ass looks like the Mom from Good Times. Hence the title of this post. And don't even get me started on "Not Your Daughter's Jeans." They should rename those bitches "Not Your Daughter's Jeans unless your daughter is Florida Evans aka the Mom off Good Times and then yes they are in fact your daughter's jeans." Maybe it's a hair too long for a title of some pants.
Please wish me luck - I am off to Steinmart right now to buy some sick ass matte jersey separates and just accept the fact that I am going to look hideous (read: exactly like I actually look) at my reunion. At least I have a good job and a heroin chic husband. Oh and my off-brand botox/laser face and a shitload of rich makeup...silver lining!!