Naturally, I needed to see if it still fit.
This dress is made for curtsying, no? It makes me feel like a lady. Please note my dainty curtsy pinky.
It's also perfect for makin' with the finger guns.
And impersonating Geena Davis in Beetlejuice.
J was understandably horrified, and that sentiment only grew when I kept the dress on for over an hour (it was COMFY, dammit), and then mulled aloud about wearing it outside of the house, just to see what happened. You'll be relieved to know I decided against it, because I love him (and, you know, my dignity). But people, I tell you this: I am keeping it around, because one day, my kids are going to complain about some trifling way in which I embarrass them, perhaps hugging them in public, or maybe acknowledging their existence in front of their friends. And when they do? THIS DRESS IS GOING ON WHEN I WALK THEM TO THE BUS STOP. Then they'll know what embarrassment truly is. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't gleefully waiting for that day.