That Dress

Sharing with you a letter I sent a dear friend. I’ve changed some details (not gonna tell you which ones) because, contrary to what you may think, I don’t put all my personal details out there for public consumption. But I thought you might enjoy this tale.

Hi My Sweet Friend,  [she is one of the sweetest, most tenderhearted people I know]
I want to share a little story with you, partly because I write to express what I probably should deal with in therapy 😆, but mostly because I think your tender heart will appreciate it and understand ❤️ I thought about adding this story to my blog, but I’m not sure I want to. There are some very private things in this story to which I don’t want the public to have privy. So for now, it’s just ours. I may edit later and post it, but for now, I just want you to know the wherefores. And for you to know that I truly appreciate your gentle heart.

It’s about that dress. The gray and white one you kept.

Things had been hard for awhile; years, in fact. I was exhausted, spent, tired, drained, and every other word you could possibly think of. I was done. And I let myself be done. I altered my adult life to the most extreme; I got a divorce. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done. All the psychology behind grief and loss and guilt and all the other things dealing with divorce is real. I was a trainwreck.

But I worked hard at not letting myself fall completely apart – most of the time – and worked at putting my life together as best I could. It was definitely a crazy period of life.

The sun came up every morning, and though it was a lot of two-steps-forward-one-step-back, there was always progress, and I began to heal. And then I met this crazy Lawyer who, in spite of my strongest efforts, swept me off my feet. I was smitten.

He asked me out constantly, and I constantly said, “no.” This is Tallahassee, and I know everyone, and can’t go anywhere without running into someone who will tell someone who will tell someone. So The Lawyer settled for dinner at his house, and he wooed me with his gentle ways. Then he started in on me about going to this lawyer/judge thing that was something I couldn’t even begin to comprehend, much less know how to behave, or dress, or shake hands, or speak, or somebody get the paddles because I think I’m having a stroke.

“Go with me to this event.”

“No. I’m busy that night.”

“No, you’re not. Go with me.”

“I can’t, I don’t have anything to wear, and I don’t know how to talk to these people, they are way out of my league.”

“Meet me at the mall when you get off work. We’ll find you a dress, and you talk to people all day long, so don’t tell me you can’t talk to them.”

“No.”

“See you at Dillard’s at 6.”

crap.

I gave in and said I’d meet him there, but knew it would be almost impossible to find a dress. I never find a dress that fits.

And, just like I said, I ran into clients I knew. The Lawyer and I saw each other from across the store, then I saw my clients. As The Lawyer and I approached one another, I eyeballed him and set my pace and passed him saying, “people I know. keep walking past me.” He’s a smart fellow and did as I said. I spoke to my clients and kept moving, rounding the store and finally running into The Lawyer again. Whew. You see, no one knew I was divorced. We didn’t advertise our demise. Most people were shocked beyond belief. But that’s a different story for a different time.

So, back to Dillard’s.

I had no idea what kind of event he wanted to take me to. No idea how to dress, how to look. Formal, business casual, casual, halloween costume? Ok, definitely not that. But I was definitely at a loss. I was relying on him to dress me appropriately. I mean, after all, if he wants to take me to this elbow rubbing thing, he needs to make me presentable. (I was trying to have that attitude, but honestly it was hard. that’s not my typical demeanor) “No, not that dress. No, that wouldn’t look good on me. No, not that color.” Finally he’d had enough of my “no” and picked a few dresses and said, “get in the dressing room.” Ok. Let the fashion show begin. Except there really were a few dresses that didn’t look good on me. I wouldn’t even come out and show him. But there were a couple that were passable. Before it was all over with he was in the room with me pointing to the ones he wanted me to take home. One with little straps and an asymmetrical hem and ruffles and a floral print, and I didn’t want to admit that I loved the dress….but I loved the dress. And another one that was grey and white and was maybe a little snug in the ribs but he loved it and who was I to say “no”, so I said, “ok.” But, what got me – what stopped me on the inside – what, I’m sure showed on my face but he, thank God, didn’t notice, was something I’ll never forget. The dresses were hanging on the hooks in the dressing room. We’d moved the “no, thank yous” to the far hook, and front and center were the two dresses he liked best. He pointed to the floral dress and said, “that one.” “that’s the one for the event.” Then pointed to the gray and white one and said, “And we’ll take that one, too.”

(and now I’m going to blaze past some details…..)
Then it happened.

He pointed, stated his opinion, ……

I looked at him with what I’m sure was a “look” on my face, because I just realized something. When he is firm in his belief, when he is so sure of something that there is no changing his mind, when he is as adamant as a man could possibly be…..

I know, I know, sounds silly and odd. But if you witnessed it, you’d get it. It’s the most firm, solid, complete, confident trait I’ve ever seen a man have. He pointed, placed his hand to his face with his finger still in a pointing position, and owned that space in time.

I was somewhere between mesmerized, taken aback, and wanting to melt on the inside. I was standing in this poorly lit, dingey walled dressing room with a man who knew what he wanted, knew what needed to happen, knew what I needed, knew what the situation called for, knew I would say, “ok.”

and that’s exactly what I did.

We walked out of that store with two dresses in tow. One for the event, and one because he liked it, and so did I.

I was undone.

I went to the event with him that weekend, wearing the ruffled floral dress with the asymmetrical hem and complementary shoes he’d bought me. I was so incredibly nervous, meeting people with whom I had no business even having conversation. But he never left me alone, held my hand the entire time, and we were both delighted when one of the Judges was thrilled to know that I and she were both Florida High alum and she made me feel so comfortable. It was a lovely evening, and I felt like a princess wearing that dress, and the matching shoes and ruby and diamond earrings and necklace he gave me. (and that’s a whole OTHER story!!!)

But then, what about the gray and white dress? Why do I even have that? Where will I ever wear it? I don’t go to “things” to wear a “dress.”

Silly me.

It was no time before he whisked me away on a weekend jaunt – to Las Vegas 😳

He made us reservations at the Guy Savoy restaurant. I wore that dress. It was the nicest restaurant I’d ever been in and I was, once again, a nervous wreck. I don’t know how these people expect me to act, but I’m sure I did it all wrong! And they all speak English, sure, but with the most un-understandable French accent I’ve ever heard!! I wanted to die on the spot! But, he held my hand, reminded me that “they don’t pay our rent,” and we had the most wonderful, laughter-filled, made new friends, dinner. And I felt like a princess in that gray and white dress. Funny, I never thought someone would buy me a dress, and then make a trip happen just so I could wear it……

But, time passes, and maybe I’ve thrown that dress in the washer and dryer one too many times (ok, so ONE time was one too many 🤷) and now I can wear it, yes, but breathe? No. So it needs to belong to someone who can actually take a breath while in it, and maybe possibly even eat a bite or three, too. But, who would that be? I know I’m not the tiniest person on the flat earth, but I’m certainly no two-ton-tessie, so finding an adult who could both wear it and appropriately wear it, may be a task. There’s just not that many grown women who are smaller than I. So…. I threw the dress, along with another, in the back of the “Winnebago” (as My Ron calls it) and promptly forgot about it – for months on end. Then it came to me. Stephanie! She’s a grown woman who knows how to act at real functions. Her husband is military and they go to fancy balls and such, so she could wear it to whatever she deemed appropriate. And she’s tinier than I am! This is perfect! Then the dress continued to stay in the Winnebago for months on end. Somebody run my life for me, would ya please?

But I finally got my act together and dropped the two dresses on her doorstep. No obligation, mind you, just one friend passing a hope to another, and perfectly happy if it gets passed along from there.

But then I got the text. “Thank you for the dresses. The gray and white one fits!”

My heart was so happy! A sweet friend fits into that dress that has so much meaning to me. I’m so incredibly happy that it has a new home, for however long. I see the photos of me in it, and The Lawyer so handsome in his suit standing beside me, and think to myself, “I love that dress, but when I think about not being able to breathe in it now…..”

So, Stephanie, you now know the history of that dress. And maybe one day, when you’re sick of wearing it, we’ll take it to a seamstress and have a couple of pillows made from it, and know that we share a little heart-felt history together. ❤️ Thank you for taking that dress. It means the world to me.