So the other night, an old friend rang up and invited me to her wedding (after what must be the longer engagement in history - a decade?). And, as it is every time I get invited to a wedding, I started to fret about what the hell I am going to wear to it. I fret, because in general I don't feel comfortable in dresses, and yet feel that I have to turn up looking glamorous.
I was in one of those up-market fashion boutiques today (bonus - there are winter sales on everywhere) and ended up spending an indecent amount of time admiring my legs in the mirror...
I know! I've always hated my legs for being the short and chunky lil tree trunks that they are...but in that dressing room, in front of that mirror...I didn't have tree trunks - I had gams. Pins, even.
It got me thinking that maybe I'd look pretty damned fine in short skirts after all.
And then I remembered that this incredibly flattering reflection was probably due to three things:
1. high heels,
2. opaque tights in the blackest of ultra-slimming blacks and
3. that old warhorse, the slimming mirror.
Of course! I was about to be conned into buying that skirt by a dirty, lying mirror. Like the mirror that Snow White's stepmum had, but the opposite. More like...a salesman's mirror.
I got outa there before I bought anything. Whew!