A couple of years ago spring had sprung. I was tan....for a red head. I had what I thought at the time was a beautiful white top and a new white bag with gorgeous peach lining with a matching white wallet......No need for judgment people. I just got nauseated thinking about that outfit. God what was I thinking? We all have past fashion faux pas, don't we?
Anyway, I thought I was looking mighty fine, ready for a night out with the gals at the Red Door. For those of you who don't live in Salt Lake, The Red Door is a martini bar that just so happens to make the most delicious dirty martini around. Its one of those places that everyone kinda thinks that they are too cool for school. We arrived and the door man, Chet (yes I know his name) asked for our ID's. I pulled out my wallet and a huge goop of chocolate comes out of my bag and right onto my crisp white blouse. Then to make matters worse I tried to move my hair out of my face...chocolate was smeared across my forehead. Everyone was looking at me. I immediately walkout. I was devastated and MORTIFIED. I walked out of the posh bar and almost started to cry....then I just busted out laughing. I was covered in chocolate from top to bottom. My girlfriends helped me clean my face off...with a random newspaper that was sitting on the side walk. The resourceful geniuses didn't think ahead about the ink smearing all over my top and face. I was a mess. But somehow I pulled myself together. We walked to a different bar, one where you can eat peanuts and throw them on the floor and where they wouldn't judge me if I had chocolate all over my self. I didn't get my martini that night, but I learned how to laugh at my self.
I have come to terms that I am that girl that can never wear white and not spill on it. My socks never match, my nails are typically chipped, and my hair probably looks like I just came out of a wind tunnel. But you know what, I'm just fine with that. I'm happy that I am who I am. It keeps things interesting. Even if I cant wear white. Who's up for a martini?