Dear Mom,
I can’t recall that you went to any kind of black tie event, but maybe you did before I was born. If you did I wonder if you liked it and if you were as awkward as me.
Norm and I are planning to attend another fundraising event on Saturday. One of the first black tie shin-digs I attended made me really uncomfortable—not just emotionally, but physically. I wrote an essay about it (encouraged by fellow friend writer and blogger Linda O’Connell, who ended up winning—surprise surprise). The subject of the essay pertained to getting “all dolled up”, but for me it was also about being socially awkward.
As we stood around during cocktail hour at the event in question, someone had asked me, “So Lynn, what do you do?”
Total blank. I blurted out, “Nothing.”
The conversation went downhill from there when politics came up. Somebody mentioned our Mayor. I opened my big mouth. “I wouldn’t know the Mayor if I ran into him.”
Norm laughed, “You did meet the Mayor when you got of the car earlier!”
I cocked my head like a puppy does. Really?
"See, told you.”
Did he think I was kidding? We had valet parking and I thought the car attendant was just overly friendly shaking my hand and telling me to have a good evening. What Mayor does stuff like that? I guess one that mixes with the common folk. Although what do I know about Mayors?
All of this emotional stuff wouldn’t have been so bad if my body wouldn’t have been aching. Fun being all dolled up? Every part was shouting, “I want my jammies and slippers!”
I want to be prepared for this upcoming event. No high heels. No control tops. No keep-the-girls-up bra. If someone asks, “So Lynn what do you do?” I’m going to answer, “I’m a writer.” And if politics comes up, well… I’m likely to keep my mouth shut.