Entries Tagged 'girly girl' ↓

In the past two days, I’ve learned the following:

It takes approximately 90 minutes and 42 curlers to get my hair ultra curly

I learned that even when I’ve slept on those curlers all night, my hair still won’t be dry. Even after blow drying it.

Also, it takes a lot less time to unroll than roll.

I learned that it takes about 39 bobby pins and an excessive amount of hairspray to look as though I’m going to prom.

I’ve learned that I will dislike an up-do nearly immediately.

And that people gawk at the grocery store when faced with one.

So I will take it out. And ‘fro it out.

I’ve learned that moody purples eyeshadow quads aren’t really that moody, but did bring out the green in my eyes nicely.

Also, four coats of mascara is sometimes necessary.

Additionally, a peeling sunburn cannot be tamed with Aveeno baby lotion and tan lines can’t be camo-ed with foundation.

I learned that a messy ‘fro half-updo will take a fraction of the time of a prom-ish up-do and only 4 bobby pins. And 2 mini claws.

I learned that I have friends who get really excited to see me girled-up.

And some of them take lots of great photos.

I learned that a photo taken while I’m mid-comment will bring about self-loathing.

I learned more drinks than I will admit to (yet. Wait for it.) makes me feel a little more comfy around a camera. In fact, I might even become a ham.

I learned that when you combo a ball gown skirt, pale-as-death skin and dark hair, a few people will call you Snow White.

I learned that everybody loves a boat ride.

I learned, thanks to Rebecca, about a great new flickr plugin. Which is already saving me time.

I learned that an open bar is both my worst enemy and best friend. Also, that an untended bar might bring about sticky fingers.

I learned that I could have just as much, if not more, fun sitting with friends on the seawall with pilfered liquor, coke and foam cups.

I learned that I am entirely capable of peeing in the bushes while wearing a ball-gown skirt, without getting my skirt wet or dirty. But that this shouldn’t be attempted on an incline, because my feet might end up in a muddy puddle.

Also, I like having polished toes.

I learned that even if he’s already asleep, The Ex will not be speaking to me after I come home late.

I learned that I will feel a queasiness in my tummy the next morning, comparable to the first months of gestation of Isobel, after I down nearly 20 drinks. But I still will not hurl.

Also, I might need to reign in the drinks.

Also, my hair gets bigger when I pass out. Perhaps due to some sort of magical elves.

I learned that this guy was doing exactly what I wanted to be, all day. And the fact that it was right outside my window, reminding me of the impossibility? Sucked.

I learned that it’s not berries.

What happens when there is a hidden girly fashionista, without the budget and with too much pride to dress the part, with an event to go to that is formal-ish (at least as far as I’m concerned)?

She finds a dress for 14 bucks at a second-hand shop – a sleeveless, a-line black cocktail number, with faux tulle underskirting in ravishing red, boat-necked, that fits like a glove. Which will require a strapless bra to continue to fit like a glove, as opposed to its darts-popping-at-the-nipple-line potential.

That girl goes on a mission to the Downtown Vancouver bliss of three lingerie shops that carry her size, intent to buy the cheapest, most flattering thing possible – it’s hard chaining up stripper boobs inexpensively, you know?

But she gets distracted on the way by a yard sale, only four residential blocks from the closest bra boutique. A yard sale that calls to her from the other side of the street, causing her to backtrack in order to procure a Dream Item.

Dream Item: An article of clothing that is always coveted, but never procured due to lack of means (eg. it’s usually horrendously expensive), lack of availability (when’s the last time you saw a t-shirt cut, dirty-rinsed, drop waisted denim cat-suit, after all?), or lack of logic (no, I really don’t need a white, fitted, three-piece suit, nor have the means to clean and store it like it’d deserve).

Dream items never leave the eternal shopping list, an eye is always open for them and only rarely is one procured. They are the unicorn of wardrobes.

The fits-like-a-glove classy black number? Was vetoed as the Dream Item could be re-purposed for the event, and with some necessary shopping, create the Dream Ensemble.

Dream Ensemble: Outfit incorporating at least one Dream Item, that looks as good as you thought it would, the first time it was imagined.

A trip to American Eagle outfitters provided the other half necessary for the Dream Ensemble, though two other options could have substituted: a black, shiny-in-a-stunning-not-call-girl-way tube top or a backless halter.

Instead, this fashionista settled for a low-cut, casual-comfy-cotton summer halter, navy, with ropy ties around the neck (and a built in bra) – empire-waist-cut, this tank was too long and way too loose. The fix? A little knot tied in the back.

For a total of $25, she has a Dream Ensemble – the skirt was part of someone’s prom dress a decade ago and therefore $10; the top, on sale for $15. And she doesn’t even need to wear a bra, never mind buy one.

This fashionista is in Dream Ensemble heaven. Also? Girly heaven, as smoky purple eye makeup, cascading curls and pedicured toes are on the agenda, too.

If only another Dream Item would pop out of the ether in time for the event on Wednesday night: a light lavender, cropped-to-the-natural-waist, wrap-around cashmere sweater. You know, in case it gets cold.