Mr CP: You always pose the same way. Do something different! Be creative!
Me: Um, excuse me? How dare you accuse me of being uncreative! I neeeever pose the same way! (I may have been avoiding eye contact when I said this)
Mr. CP: (blank stare)
Me: Fine. I'll, erm, just walk... this... way.
Me: And I'll look up at the trees.
Me: Are you happy now? Are you?! ARE YOU?!
Mr. CP: (blank stare)
Dress: Fire Los Angeles (via Nordstrom Rack)
Cardigan: August Silk (via Nordstrom Rack)
Tights: Hue (via Macy's)
Boots: Fitzwell (via 6pm.com)
Head band: Target
Brooch: Fossil
Bracelet: Vintage
Earrings: Betsey Johnson
I found this dress recently and pounced on it. It has dainty little trees all over it! If there's one thing I love, it's whimsical prints!
Which brings me to a rather hilarious story. Around the same time I stumbled upon this dress, I found another equally adorable one. It had tiny little black and white castles, horse-drawn carriages, and princes all over it. Too cute! Now, I'm not a size large. I'm just not, which I knew when I grabbed the cute little fairy tale dress. I was so desperately enamored with it, though, that I swore I would fit into the damn thing come hell or high water. Interestingly, the problem wasn't getting into the dress. It went on with surprising ease. The problem was moving around and breathing once I had the damn dress on. With a crestfallen expression on my face (no, really, it was like someone had told me Santa Clause wasn't real all over again), I prepared to take the dress off. Only, it turned out that the dress was so tight that my arms were effectively pinned at my sides. I couldn't lift them. I should probably mention that I don't handle stress well. There are some people who operate rationally and calmly in stressful situations. Mr. CP, for example, is fantastic to have around when unfortunate things happen. My response to stress is far less productive: I either cry, or, as in this particular situation, laugh hysterically. Typically, dissolving into a fit of giggles isn't a problem. Typically, though, I can breathe in whatever I happen to be wearing. FYI, laughter only works well if you can breathe. So there I stood laughing like a crazy person. I couldn't quite manage, however, to get enough air... which caused me to start hyperventilating, which in turn only made me laugh that much harder. It was the proto-typical Giggle Loop. I finally managed to calm down enough to shimmy (yes, shimmy) over to my purse, maneuver my phone out of my bag, dial Mr. CP's number (he was there with me), kneel down, press my ear to the phone, and gasp something largely incoherent into the speaker. So, poor Mr. CP had to come back to the dressing room to help me hoist the dress over my head. ::sigh:: So much for maintaining any sense of mystery. I learned a valuable lesson, though. Love isn't roses, or breakfast in bed. It's rescuing your stupidly determined significant other who's apparently lacking in the common sense department from a too-small item of clothing.
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