Prom Time

I went prom dress shopping!

Bet you never thought you’d hear me say that, huh? Just goes to show if you stick around here long enough you’ll find something that’ll surprise you. But, as you’d expect, there’s a story.

My lovely girlfriend has an equally lovely daughter and it’s prom dress picking time. What that means is people go from store to store looking for a dress which combines the elegance, sophistication, and utter hideousness that is the hallmark of prom dresses.

Why I had to be there is, and most likely always will be, up for debate. My side of the debated was the well reasoned fact that I would be about as useful in this endeavor as piss in a popsicle.

The other side of the debate (which I personally found slapdash and ill-conceived so saw no chance of winning) can be summed up thusly,

“Shut up. Get in the truck.”

Imagine my surprise when the ‘Standing In The Store’ judges gave her tens across the board.

Fucking judges.

I must say the mixture of fear, anxiety, and Love’s Baby Soft in your average prom dress shop could cause the Dalai Lama to pop a handful of pills. I’m standing as far away from everyone and thing as possible (in, what I have to assume, are portable changing rooms for when the panics on frenzy) and watched minor nervous breakdowns all around me. One girl kept looking at a dress the shop said they couldn’t sell her because someone from her school already has it.

As predicted by my side of the debate, I was useless. I stood there not touching anything and did a good job until my girlfriend came over and said,

“Check out how heavy this is.”

She handed me a tiny, shear dress which I quickly handed back saying,

“I’m sure it’s heavier than any girl who could squeeze into it.”

She let me go back to my important standing so I checked out my surroundings (it was either that or swing on the metal bar of the makeshift changing room. Trust me, I debated the pros and cons before remembering there weren’t any bars in the area). My squinting at the bright colors covering every square inch must have piqued my girlfriends interest because she came over and asked what I was thinking,

“This place looks like an Easter egg manufacturer exploded.”

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8 responses to “Prom Time

  1. You poor, poor thing. My heart feels your pain. My daughter is only 14, so the prom dress shopping excursion is in our future (but only if she’s NOT grounded at the time of her prom!) I, unlike many women, positively hate shopping, and my daughter has to try on everything that strikes her fancy! I have spent many hours (although it feels like years) in a dressing room antechamber waiting for her to “come out and show me” or to just “come the hell out for the love of God!”

    Maybe I’ll tell her father to just “Shut up. Get in the truck, and drive her to the prom dress store.”

  2. I’m sure the judges will also give you tens across the board.

  3. Beck — all these years, and I didn’t know you shared my hatred of shopping! That’ll trump the conservatism and country music any day.

    I had one prom shopping experience with my daughter. We lucked out. It was lovely and appropriate (and expensive, but the clerk gave us a discount because we found it on the wrong rack and clearly couldn’t cover the actual cost when she told us what it was).

    Of course, it’s a size 8, and my daughter will probably never be a size 8 again. She’s still slender but my kinfolk tend to do their maturing late. But I can still actually smile when I see it in the closet.

    (Chris, would your lovely ward be a size 8, by any chance?)

    Makeup is another thing … I admit, I have actually bought more makeup for my son than for my daughter. It’s not what you think. She doesn’t wear any and he does a lot of stage work, which means dark foundation and eyeliner. He wouldn’t be caught dead in it, otherwise.

  4. My aversion to shopping trumps concervativism and Country music??!!???

    My conservativism could also be considered moderation in all things!

    “And what is wrong with Country music,” she demanded hotly. “I’ll have you know that I also enjoy Classical music! And I’m talking about the TRUE classic composers! (Granted it is just a hold-over from my piano days, but I still like it!) And I don’t need no stinkin’ lyrics!”

    Now that I’ve gotten all that out of my system, I have to confess that I was only ever a size 8 when I was 8, so some of my ferocious self-defense can be attributed to envy.

    And I’m from New Hope, I will never make a comment on your son needing more make-up than your daughter!

    By the way, My daughter wears more make-up everyday to school than I do when dressing up to go out, on a special occasion like to an Atlantic City casino for a concert or a show with a best friend.

  5. Becky: A conservative country western fan? What are the odds?

    Did you know that native sons of New Hope, Gene and Dean Ween of the band Ween, made your town famous with these here words in their hit song, ‘Pumpin’ 4 The Man’:

    And think about how bad New Hope sucks, woohoo!

    Probably not. You’re probably more a fan of their C/W songs from ’12 Golden Country Greats’ like ‘Help Me Scrape The Mucus Off My Brain’ or ‘Piss Up A Rope.’ I bet ‘Fluffy’ made you cry.

    Judy: Although I’ve managed to block most of that time from my mind (I have some powerful forgettin’ tools) I do recall the dress size was 6. I don’t know what that means but, like a talkin’ parrot, I can repeat what I’ve learned.

  6. I love Ween and I was devestated when they were pelted with rotten fruit after performing “Push The Little Daisies” and they vowed to never sing that song again. 😦

  7. Chris … If she said “6,” then trust me … the size 8 would fit perfectly.

  8. Now I don’t want you to think I’m stupider than I am (as if that’s a possibility) but if you tell me you need a 4 1/2 tennis grip I know exactly what you’re looking for, how to measure for it, and why it’s named that.

    But, woman’s clothing doesn’t allow that. I’ve heard people say, “It’s a 9 but it fits like a 7.” Or the concept of vanity sizes. Stores filled with 6’s regardless of the amount of fabric used.

    Yeah, too many land mines there for my taste.

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