On Tuesday I was lucky enough to go to the Melbourne Cup for the day with The Husband as part of a corporate hosting gig. Can you imagine the stress of what bag to take, how warm was it going to be, what coat to wear - the blood that I shed and decisions that I forced on others lasted for days in the lead up. But wearing a nice dress from the wardrobe, a bit of fluff in the hair and some uncomfortable satiny(?) shoes and carrying 2 bags (a large carryall thing and a clutch) as well as my pink trench, I was sorted. It was a great day, we sat in a tent with other corporates, looked at hats, outfits, boob jobs, drank lots of bubbles, watched racing, lots of chit chat and had a totally awesome day.
But there's always a story with me.
Now those that know me will know that ever since my days of wearing braces, I have been paranoid about getting stuff stuck in my teeth. And I just seem to have the teeth where things get stuck in them as well, to make matters worse. I've worn this badge with tolerance for the 20+ years since my braces were on.
So after a lengthy lunch, lots of chatting, laughing, smiling, heart to hearts, I trot off to the very respectable port-a-loos (a far cry from my Bridge Run portaloo experiences - have I shared those?). Fighting my way to the front of the pack crowding the mirror, I take a quick look at the teeth.
Which are covered in lipstick.
Now this shows the progress I've made in the last 20 years. With a sigh and a clean, I pull my shoulders back and confidently walk back to the lunch. Was it a new found maturity or the bubbles?
In saying that though it must have been a week for it. I have a new white dress, a little beachey strapless number. Last Friday with temperatures forecast of over 36C, I wore it knowing I had to walk a couple of kms either way from a car yard where my car was getting serviced to the mall and back. Walking back with my bags in the heat, I was hot, sticky, and uncomfortable but thankful to have a little breezy dress on. I got the car, picked up Smith from pre-school, popped in to the butcher and the bakery. At last at home, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The whole top part of the back of my dress had got tucked underneath my beige strapless bra so there was more bra than dress showing. I did a quick estimate of how long it had been like this and unfortunately and realistically it was hours rather than minutes.
Once again with a sigh, I untucked myself and carried on.
I've made progress girls!