Friday, June 15, 2012


Tomorrow evening, my friend Martha will marry the love of her life, Santiago. I love weddings—they’re holy and beautiful affairs—but I’m stressed out about what to wear to this one.

I know little about style, but I have it on good authority (my mom) that one doesn’t wear denim to weddings. We live in a shopping vacuum, so I haven’t been able to go dress searching until today. Hubby and I drove 180 miles to Billings to pick up various and sundry items for our cows, horses, home, and pantry.  I weaseled out of ranch errands long enough to peruse the mall for something more chic than jeans.

Alas, I didn’t see a single item I could or would wear. Many outfits reminded me too much of the 70’s.  Most revealed more skin than small-town propriety allows; besides, my farmer's tan--dark brown neck and arms, white everywhere else--would look ridiculous. Other garments may have looked good on me a dozen or so years (and pounds!) ago, but I didn’t dare try them on for fear of a mid-life crisis. And the shoes! I doubt I could even stand on those things without falling off of them, let alone teeter across my gravel driveway without injury.

Hubby graciously took me to some non-mall stores, but my search was unsuccessful. “The problem,” I explained to Hubby on the way home, “is that no one designs clothing for hayseed princesses like me.”

But what will I wear? Fairy godmother: if you’re reading this, please drop whatever you're doing and come to my fashion rescue!

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