Dreaming of a White Christmas?

Nah, it’s more like a nightmare!

I love holiday parties, I really do. Friends, food and fun, with a little ‘naughty Santa’ gift exchange, fills me with glee and holiday cheer. This year though, I received an invitation that, while I’m looking forward to it, also fills me with a little bit of terror.

“The pleasure of your company is requested at a ‘White Christmas’ party.”

What is a White Christmas party, you ask? It’s a party where everything, from the décor, to the food, to the gift wrap, and yes, gulp, even the clothing, is white. Not the guests, obviously, that would be obscene, and my friends are all nice people, but literally everything else…white.

Why is that scary?

For a few reasons, actually. I almost never wear white. I have to be feeling really brave, and even then, I think long and hard before I don snowy attire, even in the summer.

Inevitably, when I wear something white, I spill, and it’s usually something red, purple or another striking color that can’t be concealed or easily eradicated. It takes nothing short of a tranquilizer-inducing event to get me to wear white pants or skirt, and white shorts shall never grace this bod. Why? Let’s just say that all the sand is in the bottom of my hourglass. I have one pair of white capris for summertime, and if it’s a good year, I may wear them once per season. Once.

I literally have four white items in my closet. One is a workout tank top, I have one sort of off-white sleeveless blouse, one long-sleeved knit top and the dreaded capris. That’s it. None of those items are even remotely appropriate to wear to a Christmas party. Which meant that I had to go emergency shopping yesterday.

During the holiday rush. When I have a book due.

I darted from rack to dressing room multiple times, after ferreting out the six white items that stores carry this time of year in the Midwest, and stood in front of mirrors looking like a high-priced marshmallow, or perhaps the Michelin man, depending on the angle. I was desperate. I refuse to be the one person who wears red or green to the white party. I dallied with the thought of wearing silver, which looks white in different lighting, but I sighed, sucked it up and continued my hunt for a white outfit.

I found a dress that fits perfectly, but there are some issues. And yes, I bought it a size larger than I normally wear so that I’ll be able to eat to my heart’s content. It’s sleeveless. As of right now, there are two inches of snow on the ground. So I had to buy a sparkly bolero to go over it.

Also…it’s a bit off-white, which means that if all of the other ladies at the party managed to find pure white outfits, I’m going to look like the bad tooth in the beautiful smile when it comes to pictures. Or I’ll look like my outfit has yellowed with age…and it’s brand new.

Then there’s the matter of pantyhose.

Have you tried to find vanilla-colored pantyhose this year? They don’t exist. Anywhere. I looked. Which means I had to settle for the palest pair of nude hose that I could find. What color shoes am I supposed to wear with that? I beg of you, please tell me what color shoes!

I haven’t even begun to think about accessories yet, and the party is in three days.

At least the food will be white, so if I spill, it won’t matter terribly much. Maybe there’ll be someone else there whose white is even more ‘antique’ than mine. Winter white used to be a thing, but it somehow disappeared. Either that, or everyone else bought their outfits first, so there was nothing left for me. Procrastination does have its downside.

Anyhoo…I made up my mind not to care.

Going to the party isn’t about what I’m wearing…at least not entirely, lol. It’s about fun and friends, and celebrating the season. And let’s not forget about the food. Party food during the holidays is calorie-free, right? And if not…cool. If one is going to gad about looking like a marshmallow, one should look like the most robust possible marshmallow ever.

I hereby resolve to be as fluffy and sweet as possible this season, like the happy little marshmallow that I am.

Happy Marshmallow

Happy Holidays!
Summer Prescott

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