It's Getting Hot in Herrrrrre

Every so often when I hop on my morning bus, I find that the driver and I have very different definitions of comfort.  This morning's ride to the train was hotter than Hades.  I have such a low heat tolerance that I usually start panicking the second I start to feel moisture on my upper lip.  We hit every red light on the short drive and all I could do was frantically look around the packed bus to see if anyone else was visibly in distress.  The answer was no.  The driver herself was wearing what looked to be a toasty sweater.  By contrast, I was wearing a light maxi dress and was baking like a toasted cheeser.  (I'm going to work that phrase into every single post this summer.)  If I live long enough to reach menopause, I am going to be an absolute nightmare.  There, you've been warned.

While I must admit that the maxi dress I am sporting today is crazy comfy, I have qualms about wearing it.  I ordered a couple online and returned one that was so baggy and shapeless that it screamed, "I have given up on life."  I kept the one that was not a fabric manifestation of depression, but I fear it tells another story, namely, "I'm on my way to Lamaze class."  It is safe to say that the empire-waisted maxi dress is not a style that is particularly flattering to "sturdy" gals such as myself.  Yet I shall continue to wear it, knowing full well that doing so makes me look like I'm in my second trimester.  And here is why:  This is a garment to slip into on days when even an elasticized waist seem too restrictive.  There's no waist at all, just a circus tent of fabric cascading from my chest.  It is glorious.

For our one confirmed loyal reader (slash heckler), I would like to point out that I did not include any links, photos, or videos in this post.  Instead you were treated to a temperature-related complaint and a half-baked fashion discussion from the least fashionable person on the planet.  Now you know-- criticism will be punished.