Luckystott

2004-04-02 - 7:33 p.m.

It's no secret -- I don't mind suffering to be beautiful. For example, I often elect for an instant butt-lift and thigh trimmage by teetering around in 3 inch heels. When I go out, I pour myself into low rise pants or a miniskirt and then refuse kindly offers to take a seat on a barstool or play pool because...well, the ramifications would be downright indecent. There isn't a single inch of my body that hasn't been highlighted, tweezed, exfoliated, waxed, manicured, painted-up or slathered with shimmering body lotion. What can I say? It's a quest. A quest for beauty. ("Dulcinaaaaaaay-yah!")

Which leads to the subject of today: The Easter Dress.

I grew up in Southern California where the weather rarely dips below 65 degrees during the day. For Easter, My family would always go to a sunrise service at church and then take a family picture and go to a fancy brunch. Ergo with the picture-taking, Easter -- to me -- means buying a brand new frilly, frothy Easter dress.

Understand this: I love getting dressed up on Easter. I love the gossamer pastels. I love the delicate shoes. I love the parading about with my matching hat and purse. And gloves! Ah'm quite the lady with mah gluuuuves. Oh, I just luuuuve Eastah. (Is it haht in he-ah? Ah'm a bit pah-ched. Ah sho could use a mint julep...)

Now, unfortunately, I live in the Artic Circle (er, New York) where, instead of something flouncy and slip-like, it would behoove me to wear dressy trousers and a sensible cashmere turtleneck. Boo!

Being a Stott (i.e. stubborn to the very core), I refuse to dress appropriately for an East Coast Easter. Every year, you'll find me shivering in a lovely pastel slip dress with nothing but a little pashmina wrap to protect me from the elements. My tense smile is a pretty good indication that my teeth are chattering wildly inside my mouth. The lavendar in my dress usually matches the grayish color of the sky...and mixes nicely with the blue shade of my fingertips and toes. And while I try to convince myself that a layer of Nars body oil on my bare legs will offer some sort of barrier from the gusty wind...I am always sorely mistaken. But it's EASTER, daggnabbit, and there will be frou-frou!

This year finds me in a bit of a quandry. I am singing with the choir and while I really want to look fabulous, huddling into the aforementioned pashmina wrap while singing in front of the entire congregation is highly unfabulous. My church is an old-fashioned building with a high ceiling and lots of stone walls and stained glass. It's pretty cold in there! (Which, er, brings up a good point (or two). So. I definitely won't be wear a slip dress. Because I need to wear a padded bra. It would be embarrassing to get headlights...well, you get the picture. Cute sundress vs. causing your Christian brother to stumble: a very fine line.) Also, I won't be playing the "scoot to the center of the pew to make room for latecomers" game this year because I am participating in the service. I am sitting off to the side with the rest of the choir and won't have that smooshed in, nook-and-cranny feeling out in the congregation to warm me up and protect me from feeling too exposed. Beth suggested a colorful suit, but all my suits are corporate (yawn). Except my red suit. I love my red suit but it seems a little too...red...for a church service.

Grrr. I don't have the time or money to buy something new at the eleventh hour like this. But don't worry -- I'll pull something together. (I'm telling you, I need to be on this show. I love these girls, but they got NOTHIN' on me when it comes to creative last minute ouch-fits.)

Reading: Henry VI (No kidding)

Watching: The Apprentice -- Love it. Love it, love it.

Singing: more of the same Tenebrae music, but I think we are starting to sound good!

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