Mom's death came rather quickly though. I realized when she went into ICU that I had nothing to wear to a funeral, but shopping didn't seem appropriate at that time. Before I had time to make other arrangements, she was gone. I had one day to find a dress before heading to St. Louis for the services, and now appropriateness was no longer an issue. The issue at hand now was that I had never in my life felt less like shopping.
So I started at White House Black Market, with the hope that it would be the easiest place to find a black dress. I picked up a couple, and a saleswoman offered to start a dressing room for me. "What are you shopping for today?" she chirped. "A funeral," I said flatly. I eyed a dress on a dress form. "Do you have this in an 8?" I asked. "I'll check," she said. "We'll find you something nice. I'm Karen."
I went into the dressing room and tried on the dress from the dress form. It had a beautiful neckline and flattering darts. I stood in front of the full-length mirror. "It's very pretty," Karen said kindly. And naturally I burst into tears. Surely they're used to that, right? I mean, they sell black dresses.
"Do you wear a necklace with a neckline like this?" I asked her, wiping my eyes. "Just something small," she suggested. "Maybe with some pearl earrings?" Mom would like pearls.
When I went back into the dressing room to change back into my own clothes, I noticed the skirt was pretty fitted around my rear end. I wasn't wearing the right underwear, but still...there were a lot of...lines.
So when I got home and started packing my bag for St. Louis, I threw in several pairs of underwear — a thong, a pair of microfiber boy shorts, a pair of Spanx (I KNOW!! Never say never, I guess.). I was going out of town overnight and I packed FIVE PAIRS OF UNDERWEAR. But I'd be wearing a new dress, I had no idea which ones I would need.
I ended up wearing the Spanx, and while it did, in fact, smooth out the pantylines around the back of the dress, I am not ready to eat my words. The damn thing also did roll down while I was sitting on the front row at the funeral. And I had to stand up in front of everyone and speak, and I would somehow have to resist the urge to roll the thing back up again while standing in front of the rows of mourners. Instead, I walked right over to the podium, took the microphone and announced to Mom — and to the crowd — that I was wearing a panty girdle. Rock on.
In addition to the black dress and the questionable underwear, there are a couple of other accessories I highly recommend for a funeral: 1) Waterproof mascara (I chose Maybelline Lash Stiletto and had good results), and 2) Big black sunglasses. Believe me, if I could've gotten away with a Jackie Kennedy hat and gloves, I would've worn those too, but Mom's services just weren't that formal. Overdressed is good, but no one wants to look pretentious at a funeral.
2 comments: