A rare glimpse of a reclusive author

I am a woman of my word. As promised: me wearing what I would wear if I was cute enough to get away with it. By which I mean ever so slightly less ample. (Mom, I am being honest here, NOT MEAN) So I fearlessly donned the outfit I had previously put on BBQ Sue. It occurs to me, seeing us stylish gals standing next to each other that if I gave her a quarter of my size we would both be rather perfect. She doesn't know it (because she's a mannequin, duh!) but she's very unsatisfied with herself.

Seriously, I'd wear an ensemble like this, not only every day, but everywhere. As in: out in public. I was sartorially fearless before I achieved my current form. I would like to tell you that looking at these pictures fills me with the pride and roar of large lady solidarity and a new-found determination to wear whatever the hell I want regardless of how it looks on me. That would be very noble and prideful, but I'm not feelin' it ladies.

However, I do kind of look like a kick-ass Polish farm gal. I also remind myself of the grandma in "The Secret Of Roan Innish" which isn't bad at all because I thought she looked great. But what am I in the context of 30's and 40's films? I am the brash lush-figured woman in the farm-house where the heroin has crash landed her plane in the Midwest and I stuff her with potato pancakes with sour cream because she is wasting away with useless frailty. I rub my large floury fists on my calico apron and talk in a really thick, totally FAKE, Polish accent.

Then in a fit of fiery jealous rage at never having made it on the Broadway stage I strangle the life out of this delicate flower of a female that has fallen from the skies into my little corner of rotten earth where there is no one to hear her cries for miles around...

Just kidding.

So while I'm at it I may as well put on my favorite apron in the whole world that I am going to wear the next time I serve a nice dinner at my house. My friend Chelsea made this apron and I still owe her some money for it. I haven't worn it yet because it isn't the most flattering for my figure (also because I haven't paid for it yet). On the other hand, fuck it!

By the way, Bitter Betty: no cookies were consumed yesterday. I was also pretty mellow at the baby shower and only ate a very few chips and mostly just chowed down the fresh strawberries sans the marshmallow/sour cream sauce. Now, if only I could get some exercise today. How perfect it would be! You and your awesome figure (which I admire in a totally non-lecherous way) are inspiring me.

Oh yeah, I wore a new shirt the day before yesterday that actually made me look pregnant. Seriously. NOT KIDDING. (Also not saying this to be mean. Philip will attest to the truth of this.) Now, I definitely think that the pregnant look is really warm and fuzzy when you're carrying an actual baby in your womb. Really, I think pregnancy is charming. But there is something so deflating about people thinking your pregnant when you're not. I also find it really uncomfortable being the person who brings shame on hapless strangers who congratulate me and then get the glacial response "Thanks. We're so excited to be giving birth to beer."

So I've been thinking about making a couple of garments that have a banner sewn on that reads "NOT PREGNANT" on it. Informative don't you think? I will do it to amuse myself. Plus, then I will be free to wear garments that might make me look "natal" without having to worry about misunderstandings out in the world. What do you think? If one can wear clothes with huge logos on them that pretty much scream out "I am an ass!", then why not?

This brings our little fashion-for-the-deranged segment to a close. Enjoy your Sunday!


Note: no fake people were harmed in the filming of this episode.