not Posh

I get a precious few chances each year to dress up and go out in public with my man. I love to be fancy, but how practical are heels and pearls at the grocery? Every year at Christmas, we attend at least one, sometimes two, definitely-not-casual parties for Marvin's job, and sometimes, if I've been REALLY good, Santa brings me tickets for a fancy theater event.

Last night, I was looking over our calendar and asked Marvin if he knew when the parties were this year. As he casually told me that there were no parties this time, only dinners out after hours with the staff, my visions of a new dress dissolved in a cloud of disappointment.

Determined to squeeze at least one outing out of the season, I asked if he had looked at tickets for the ballet. We took Ava last year to see a matinee performance of The Nutcracker and she was completely enamored, behaving better than some of the adults around us! Oh yes, he informed me, Ava and I talked about that last night. She said how much she loved it, and was excited when I told her we'd go next year.

New dress, come to mama! I thought...and then...oh wait, he said next year. WHY???

I think I was yelling a bit as I complained to him about the disappointment his new boss was to me, cheating me out of my "Fancy Nancy" moment, and berating him for not thinking of ballet tickets for this year.

We dropped the conversation for the evening, in favor of paperwork and bedtime, but I'm bringing it up again, dang it! I want my new dress and uncomfortable shoes and sparkly earrings and chilly arms and smokey eyeshadow! Not fair that I should be deprived of my one evening of no stretch pants and pill-y cardigans...I'm just sayin'...