Some Things Just Aren’t Meant To Be Pt 1

Just before Thanksgiving, I set about booking my husband’s January birthday dinner at Morimoto Asia at Disney Springs, but while perusing the site, I found out about the Sake and Shine event in collaboration with Chef Art Smith’s Homecoming.

Are you kidding me? A progressive dinner starting at one restaurant, with dessert across the courtyard at the other, overseen by both Iron Chef Masaharu Morimoto and Chef Art Smith??

Copywrite Disney

Copyright Disney

No question we would go!

Over the weekend though, I began to realize I didn’t really have anything spectacular to wear. Fortunately, Amazon was running their Black Friday and Cyber Monday deals, and one happened to be for a really pretty dress. Cue my interest.

Now, I’m not a small woman by any stretch of the imagination, and clothes shopping is an exercise in mutilating self esteem, let alone figuring out whether a garment’s measurements would fit sight unseen.

Yeah, the sale dress ended up nowhere near viable. (Since when is US size 6 known as XXL???) But a few hours of clicking later, I had one inexpensive black dress on order that almost certainly would fit. I knew I had one shot. It would arrive Wed (thank you Prime), and if it didn’t work… No, it had to.

Dress settled, I started shopping for shoes—a painful exercise in itself. My wide feet like to slip out of shoes that should fit and yell at me if I try the size smaller. I kept coming back to one pair that I liked, but they hurt just walking around the store, so I left empty-handed.

Wed, my friend joined me. Surely, two women could find ONE pair of shoes that would work. Surely!

Hahahahaha no.

I arrived home disheartened, but determined. Okay, I had a pair of black sandals that would do. They were back ups for ones I wore around the house (those looked too ratty to be a good option). So I dug out the new ones and wore them Thurs to start breaking them in. My big toe pitched such a fit, I started worrying about pressure sores. Could I just wear my sneakers with the dress?

Pride told my feet to suck it up for a few hours, and I set about painting my nails.

In the meantime, my husband took his shoes to a place that would restore their awesome blackness. It’s a pair of orig Dr Martens he got on a school trip to England some 20-odd years ago. Benefits of not walking: shoes last forever. Drawbacks of limited dexterity: polishing the shoes himself would have ended in disaster. =)

In between letting my nails dry forever between coats, I did a few loads of laundry. I’d have finished everything Thurs if I hadn’t had to dye my hair and get up early the next day.

Fri was a trip to my husband’s barber. I dutifully wore the sandals and my feet seemed resigned to the idea. Good little toes.

By the time I could get back to finishing my nails, it was about 9pm. The color looked good enough that I decided to paint my fingernails too. Risky, but I figured any effort would be worth it.

I must have forgotten who I am though, and what a messed up year this has been…

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