Little black dress

I've got a thing with clothes. I'm not in any way a fashionista, but I gain comfort and confidence from certain outfits or items. My day-to-day mom outfit usually consists of sweats or shorts and a variety of nike or addidas, dryfit, short sleeve or long sleeve shirts. Despite my rare capacity to exercise or play sports, my inner sportsperson is resembled in my wardrobe. That, and the fact that my hubby pretty much gets me the same principle every holiday.

 Today I had a meeting with a new client for a kick-off meeting for my new project. 13 years of Catholic school and daily uniforms has resulted in my need to put on my professional little aniia special occasion dresses if I will an important work related event. I haven't really had to interact with litigant in the past few years, so i was a bit out of sorts late yesterday racking your brains on what I would wear.

The pickings were certainly restricted to what was clean and what needed ironing. I found a suit jacket that I've always liked, but the with jeans were wrinkled and I was too tired to make the effort. A little black dress hangs in the back of my closet. It's a simple, Ann Taylor number with cap masturbator sleeves. It's put there on its hanger for over three and a half years. It often attracts my eye and activates me back to that first and last time I used that dress. Jeanne and Mike's memorial. I really enjoy seeing I've never gotten to use it again, despite multiple opportunities. It's always seemed like an untouchable object or a portkey from Harry Potter that would amazingly transport me back to that day.

 
 I made a quick decision yesterday in my tiredness that this dress would be perfect with the suit jacket. Clean lines and professional, it would be perfect. With slight uncertainty, I pulled off my first tee shirt and pulled clothing over my head. It still fit even though I've lost a lot of weight within the last few years. I put on that jacket and, as alleged, the combo worked great. When we were little, definitely the game to play with my sisters was what we called "big business. inch Jeanne would set up a desk in the cellar and from what From the the game centered around taking notes, answering pretend phones and filling out "business" forms that we created.

 As adults, my sisters and I have joked when one of us was in our "big business" mode. I decided that rather than look at that dress and think that it would sink me in my suffering for my sibling, this little black dress would carry her with me today. I don't know why today was the day. Maybe it was because I was just too tired and being practical outweighed the feelings associated with the dress. Maybe the rawness of my suffering is conditioning. Maybe I recently needed my big sibling today and that dress was the nearest thing I could get.