In fact, I suck at them. I'm not very outgoing, I embarrass easy, and I'm not 'pretty' enough to do the party circuit. I'm a home-body who seems anti-social.
So I called on my best friend to go with me to a swanky Dallas party. This country bumpkin couldn't go alone and I wasn't even sure if I fit in. I couldn't find something that said 'pretty in pink' without falling back on my old insecurities - my short stubby legs don't look good in a skirt, my belly pooches out past my boobs, my shoulders are freakishly wide and, oh yeah, I have to wear a giant lymphadema sleeve on my arm. While I didn't feel 'pretty in pink', I did feel 'passable' in pants and a frilly top.
Sharla and I were early and met the hosts of the event. They were great ladies who were also breast cancer survivors, so we had some common ground to talk about. Te venue was beautiful and I loved the mix of 80s music played by the DJ. As the night when on, I felt more and more out of place. Maybe it's because I don't drink, and everyone around me does? Maybe it's because I feel inferior to the other guests? I don't know what the issue is - but it hangs over my head every time I try to 'go out' or go to parties.
There's another one coming up in October. I guess I have until then to boost myself up and be able to walk in with my head held high and my newly constructed chest of boobs puffed out.
No comments:
Post a Comment