Schrödinger's Wardrobe

Last night J. and I went to a gala. It was to raise money for the Rising Lights Project which H. has been participating in for the past year. I've written before about how fantastic this program has been for her... giving her a group of friends, skills, and a chance to experience being on her own and doing things without her parents around. The organization also hosts other inclusive events throughout the year, and the group's founder's desire is to work to create a more inclusive society where the able and disabled are seen as being equal participants and have equal access to life and society. Because there is no fee to participate —and because we love the group and its mission — J. and I felt it was important to spend the money and attend the gala. 

The gala was a black-tie optional event, which means that my nice jeans and washing off the horse smell was not going to be quite enough. Now, J. and I have attended galas in the past and have been able to dress accordingly, but even the most recent of these was several years ago. We both had clothes that were hanging in our closet that could be appropriate, but the big question was, would they fit? The dress I was kind of thinking I would wear, I realize I hadn't actually had on since before we moved. It was my default dress-up dress that I kept solely for that purpose. (I also have default funeral attending clothes, which sadly, I seem to wear far more frequently.)

Now, when you haven't worn a dress in over five years, there is always that question in the back of your mind, "Does it fit?" Bodies change over time. It was the correct dress size, but it is also very fitted. Women in their fifties just carry weight different from previous years. (And if there was somewhere I could write a complaint letter to about this fact, I would.) I am in far better shape now than when we moved and much better shape than when the documentary was filmed. I also have a lot more upper body muscle due to several winters of hauling gallons of water around all season. It began to feel a bit like Shrödinger's cat... er... dress. As long as it was in my closet it both fit and didn't fit all at the same time. I liked having a dress that fit well in my closet, so I let it sit there until, oh, about five o'clock yesterday when I really did have to get changed for the gala. A bathrobe was even less appropriate than my "good" jeans.

I put on the dress. And it did zip and I could have worn it, but I'm fussy about fit and didn't like the slight pull it had in a couple of places. I also had the realization that while I still thought of this as my "new" good dress, it was over fifteen years old. Maybe it was time to start searching for a new good dress to have on hand. None of this helped with what to wear that evening and the clock was ticking. I eventually (after discarding to the give-away pile at least one other dress) settled on the dress I made a few years ago. It was comfortable and I could pretend it was a dressy dress. Sort of. I added pearls, that always makes a difference, right?

We ended up having a very nice time at the gala. We sat with two other couples who were very nice and none of us knew each other (well, I had met one of the women before, but it had been a while) so it felt easy to have conversation with everyone on equal footing. The food was very good, which had not been my expectation as food for a large crowd can be tricky. It was a good evening. 

H. is not sure that she is happy that she did not get to come with us. She finally put all the pieces together yesterday afternoon because they had been talking about the gala that morning. "How many tickets did you get?" she asked me.

"Two tickets. Just Daddy and I are going," I answered.

"Oh." There was a pause. "Some of my friends are going," she added, not very happily.

Since this was a fundraising gala, the tickets were pricey. More pricey than I would usually even consider. We couldn't have swung three even if we had wanted to. But I will put that little conversation in the back of my head and save it for next year, and maybe I can plan ahead a little more to spring for a third ticket.