Well, the boys are FINALLY fucking on their way home and will be filtering in in greater numbers over the next week, so now it's time to start shopping for that next ball gown ladies! April--Rakkasan Ball. Fun. fun, fun. Really. Rakk Balls are a fucking blast, but for goodness sake, fucking think when you buy your dress!
Remember: women are bitches. We LOVE to find fault and if you aren't careful, you will be on everyone's tongues and not in a good way. "Did you see what she's wearing? OMG!"There are always the big girls trying to look sexy by dressing too tightly or skimpily, the even bigger girls who think they can wear a yellow dress and not look like a tub of butter, the freakishly thin girls who think skanky is sexy, the girls who are ultra chic and wear a dress that they will never be able to wear again, the girls who "forgot" their underwear, the younger girls who think this is a fucking prom, the older ladies who forget that they have a baby roll and sagging boobs, and the just fucking scary girls who are wearing who the fuck knows what.
My first ball, having no clue what to do, I wore a plain black floor length strapless fitted dress. Completely forgettable, which is a good thing. Not so forgettable was the CSM's wife. When he came in alone, I was standing talking to a friend and our husbands were in line to buy a beer. Big surprise there. A minute after the CSM walked in, here comes this older woman. You couldn't miss her if you tried. She had on a beautiful tradition Korean gown, complete with jacket and shoes. Beautiful. Bright fucking fuschia and flaming orange. Very noticable.
When she came in, my friend and I immediately commented about how gorgeous her dress was. No sarcasm, because it was seriously impressive. But then her husband stopped to talk to someone and she stopped too about 10 feet behind him. In the middle of the floor, not near anyone, just stopped and stood there. OK. I am gawking at this woman wondering what the fuck is going on, and then she did it. When her husband started walking, she did this little hop to fall in step behind him and maintained that 10 foot distance.
I would have been fine if she just started walking, but the hop? I was on the floor, with my friend, dying! And here come our husbands. "Shut the fuck up! You're going to get us in trouble! That's the CSM. Stop it!" Yeah, OK. But when you wear flaming pink and orange and do that tradition the man is God shit, I'm going to stare and I am going to laugh my ass off. Sorry. No help for it.
My point is this. Think classy. Like old Hollywood classy. If you do anything to stand out in a bad way, whether it's your dress or your behavior, you could be the topic of someone's future blog. So dress nicely, avoid the grog and please, if you plan on getting drunk, don't wear a strapless dress that will allow you to reveal those boobs your hubby bought you to everyone.
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