365 Dresses

No more flowers, no more candy, no more silly gifts. I want dresses.

On a whim, I've decided I want a different dress for each day of the year. 365 dresses. Now, wouldn't that be sublime? Judging from my sailor's vocabulary and love of all things zombie and pirate, some might assume I am not a dress person. This simply isn't true. I love to twirl and swish my skirt fabric about.

Back in the day, I used to be a bigger tomboy than I am now and existed in jeans and t-shirts. But then, one glorious day, I discovered the freedom of not wearing any pants and haven't gone back. Nowadays, I probably wear jeans once a week, and that's being generous. Dresses are my favourite thing to wear because they are easy to put on, hide many unpleasant things and make you look prettier with very little effort.

I'd say I own approximately twenty-five dresses, but that's just a rough count I did in my head because I'm far too lazy to go upstairs. By this shoddy calculation, I only need 340 more dresses to reach my goal. Hopefully, people will want to see my dream come true and send me dresses in the mail. Now, wouldn't that be lovely? Imagine if girls the world over raided their closets to send me just one of their dresses. Or if boys raided their girlfriends' or mums' closets because they want to see my dream come true. How fabulous.

Now, I am a hippy girl, meaning I carry most of my weight in my hips and thighs, so the sizing might be a bit tricky if you want to send me a dress. I usually wear a size ten or a medium, especially if the dress is an A-line. Please take into consideration my bust, not only because it is amazing, but because it is on the better endowed side. If you are a full B-cup and the dress is tight in your chest, then it is not going to fit me. Sad but true. Also, my favourite colours are purple and green, but I am convinced any colour of the rainbow and those in between would look smashing on me.

And now I sit back and wait for the dresses to come in ever so grateful I had this whiz kid idea.

Here is an old picture when I had long hair in which I am wearing one of my twenty-five dresses.

Head Cold

No, I am not grateful for my head cold.

It's terrible and makes me feel sluggish and less fantastic than I really am.

Still, I wore my new dress today. New to me, that is. Because it's old and previously loved. There was a tiny stain on the right breast, but I scrubbed it with Windex and you almost won't ever notice it.

Today, I am grateful for vintage dresses. I have a few of them, but the one I recently purchased from The Patch, a thrift store in Cumberland, is magnificent. The pattern reminds me of curtains. And it is super spinny. Meaning when I spin in a circle it goes out in this beautiful twirl.

It's essential to have at least one amazing dress to twirl in. At least, I think so.

Here is the print:

And I posted a spectacular video of me doing an amazing spin on my instagram. Feel free to check it out here.

You're welcome.

She Let's Her Hair Down

Guys don't hit on me.

A bold statement if I've ever made one.

Well, it's true.

My ex, we will call him Jay, once told me that I am severely unapproachable. When someone speaks to me out in the wild, I instantly have a 'get away from me' and 'don't touch me unless you want to lose a hand' vibe going on. This may have been the case seven years ago when I was living in the city and cultivated a harder exterior after one too many run-ins with yahoos and wack-a-doos on the street.

These days, I like to think I'm softer. Not only because I've let my workout regime fall to the wayside, but because I've grown up a lot. I've matured. And I stopped shaving my armpits and have embraced a nice frolic through the dewy morning grass. One of those last things isn't true. I'll let you decide on your own because I feel all readers should be involved in what they are reading to some extent.

For example, I'm not going to tell you my surroundings or what I am wearing as I type this because I firmly believe you have enough of an imagination to come up with that information on your own. In actuality, you really shouldn't be thinking about what I am wearing or where I am while I write this. It has nothing to do with the content of the article, nor does it make reading it any more enjoyable.

Back to the subject at hand. I like to think I'm not so unapproachable.

Still, guys don't hit on me. Probably because I don't play the damsel in distress very well. I have the whole, I can do it by myself thing going on. And apparently, self-sufficiant women, do not great lovers make. Or so people mistakenly think. Because I am a fantastic...let's not go there.

The truth is, men don't ask to pump my gas, carry my groceries, or query over whether or not I want to partake in a sampling of food or beverages with them. Probably because I am so happy in my current relationship status they already know I'm not available to them. Still, it's because of guys not hitting on me that I am aware of when I am being noticed more than usual. When something doesn't happen, like never ever, and then it starts to happen, you see it. Like, for example, if you never hear birds outside your window and then, one day out of the blue, you hear a sparrow singing his little singsong. You'd take note.

Well, today, I got all sorts of attention from fellas. Ones driving by me. Workers at the grocery store. Random teenagers I let cross in front of my car instead of running over and making pavement paint out of them. Smiles. Nods. Waves. Hellos. Weird starts to conversations like, "There are so many cereals out there, hey?"

Here's the thing: I'm only doing two things differently in life these days.

1. Wearing more dresses
2. Letting my hair down

With the nice weather comes the dresses. In fact, I have waited a very long time for Spring to roll its lazy ass around so I can indulge myself in wearing clothes that I frankly shouldn't be wearing. I mean, I can't bend over in these outfits. And if I do, I better be wearing cute underwear. While this could totally be the reason I've been drawing the attention of Harry, Larry and Bob, I like to think guys don't really notice clothing. I mean, you could seriously ask my Sidekick what I wore on any given day and I doubt he'd actually be able to tell you. Likewise for any dudes I've ever had the pleasure of running into. They'd be able to tell you if my boobs looked good in a shirt, but wouldn't have a clue what was actually on the shirt.

So, dresses to the side, I also got this amazing new shampoo and conditioner from this salon and it seriously rocks my locks. I have been letting loose and leaving the elastic band at home. This crap smells so good, I want to eat it. I catch myself sniffing my hair at awkward moments. No, really. I'm one of those weird hair sniffer people.

Thus, in conclusion, men like it when women wear their hair down. I can only surmise that my lack of attention was due to the fact that I always, like every single freakin' day, wore my hair up in a messy sort of bun. Now the curly tendrils are tickling my back and the air has shifted. Perhaps it makes me more approachable, or maybe guys just like the looks of long flowing hair, either way, I think I've just cracked the attraction code.

Or perhaps I am mistaken and spring has simply sprung.