(no subject)
Mar. 21st, 2006 09:54 pmI am not a happy shopper unless the shopping is in a bookstore, or among good CDs and DVDs. It's not that I can't enjoy it; sometimes things surprise me, or I get distracted by pretties, or, in spite of my not always mainstream taste in clothes, I find something that is perfect on almost the very first shot. But where some girls of my acquaintance find it positively invigorating, I find it mentally draining, and, if it goes on long enough, physically tiring as well.
And, having forgotten in the wake of the social that I *needed* lingerie and shoes for my Wedding dress fitting (There's no point in doing the fitting if you're not wearing what you're going to wear on the day... and the fitting was yesterday), I had to do emergency runs to find both. That took up Thursday Evening, most of Sunday, and part of Monday. Then yesterday evening, after the optometrist checked and corrected my prescription, there was glasses-shopping. And tonight, Colin really wanted to look at things for possibilities for our gift registry. Plus food shopping in the middle, and dribs and drabs of other things.
The results are theoretically satisfactory: Two pairs of glasses, one more everyday and one more spangly, a pair of near-flat sandals that fit pretty comfortably right from the start, and so almost certainly will *not* get kicked off early in the night because barefoot is more bearable (The number of events and socials where I have ended up shoe-less are probably greater in number than those where I keep the shoes on.) And, if not a final list for the gift registry a general agreement where seems to be a good idea to go.
But I'm exhausted in every way. Tomorrow I will spend curled up in a heap, if i can find a way to do so and still access a Word file. I want a weekend to recover from my weekend.
And there is NOTHING more humiliating in the whole universe of clothes and accessories shopping than trying on lingerie that doesn't fit right. Shoes can look awful or feel like they're going to send your foot into cramp, glasses can be comical or terrifying in their sheer wrongness, but at least they don't make you feel unsexy and ugly from head to toe.
Okay, so it's a bit fun when it starts to work, but still, I had moments of sheer hatred of my body and all its bulges, even the ones where the male eye says bulges darn well ought to be...
We've also been talking more about refining the details of the honeymoon. Colin was weirdly surprised at my enthusiasm for seeing Pompeii (as soon as he suggested it, I might as well have said "Squeee!" and had done with it) and equally weirdly surprised (As was I, really), at my indifference to Venice. Nothing else firm, but we're getting an idea of the shape of the trip. Not backpacking as such, but certainly travelling light, and inexpensive, and favouring immersion over pampering in most cases (Though not 100% it seems). Much fun. Though I may have to take paper notebook instead of laptop, and not just because it's currently sitting unrepaired behind me.
Not enough writing done lately. I've been keeping up just enough of a word count to remind myself that yes, I do this writing thing.
I've been meaning to write an entry or two on deeper subjects. I will, soon, I swear. It's just that wedding planning apparantly eats the brain as well as zombies do.
And, having forgotten in the wake of the social that I *needed* lingerie and shoes for my Wedding dress fitting (There's no point in doing the fitting if you're not wearing what you're going to wear on the day... and the fitting was yesterday), I had to do emergency runs to find both. That took up Thursday Evening, most of Sunday, and part of Monday. Then yesterday evening, after the optometrist checked and corrected my prescription, there was glasses-shopping. And tonight, Colin really wanted to look at things for possibilities for our gift registry. Plus food shopping in the middle, and dribs and drabs of other things.
The results are theoretically satisfactory: Two pairs of glasses, one more everyday and one more spangly, a pair of near-flat sandals that fit pretty comfortably right from the start, and so almost certainly will *not* get kicked off early in the night because barefoot is more bearable (The number of events and socials where I have ended up shoe-less are probably greater in number than those where I keep the shoes on.) And, if not a final list for the gift registry a general agreement where seems to be a good idea to go.
But I'm exhausted in every way. Tomorrow I will spend curled up in a heap, if i can find a way to do so and still access a Word file. I want a weekend to recover from my weekend.
And there is NOTHING more humiliating in the whole universe of clothes and accessories shopping than trying on lingerie that doesn't fit right. Shoes can look awful or feel like they're going to send your foot into cramp, glasses can be comical or terrifying in their sheer wrongness, but at least they don't make you feel unsexy and ugly from head to toe.
Okay, so it's a bit fun when it starts to work, but still, I had moments of sheer hatred of my body and all its bulges, even the ones where the male eye says bulges darn well ought to be...
We've also been talking more about refining the details of the honeymoon. Colin was weirdly surprised at my enthusiasm for seeing Pompeii (as soon as he suggested it, I might as well have said "Squeee!" and had done with it) and equally weirdly surprised (As was I, really), at my indifference to Venice. Nothing else firm, but we're getting an idea of the shape of the trip. Not backpacking as such, but certainly travelling light, and inexpensive, and favouring immersion over pampering in most cases (Though not 100% it seems). Much fun. Though I may have to take paper notebook instead of laptop, and not just because it's currently sitting unrepaired behind me.
Not enough writing done lately. I've been keeping up just enough of a word count to remind myself that yes, I do this writing thing.
I've been meaning to write an entry or two on deeper subjects. I will, soon, I swear. It's just that wedding planning apparantly eats the brain as well as zombies do.