Shopping for Self Esteem

I shopped last weekend looking for a fab dress for my New Year's party in NY (now THAT's a carrot!). I was ceremoniously defeated by Max Azria and the BCBG. What the hell? Every "fun" looking party dress in there looked like curtains when they were draped on me - pardon the pun. Maria made nicer looking duds for the von Trapp children. And I tried on a lot. In fact, the whole lot. To make matters worse, E, my brother and Ray were all in the store watching the runway show, simultaneously making the poo face and shaking their heads at each turn. I was instantly thrown into a deep depression. It's amazing how a bad experience in a badly lit dressing room can ruin your soul from the inside out.

Then...

I hit Luxe Cache last night at the mall - alone. I was totally having a Sex and the City moment. Every cocktail dress and gown I tried made me look like a million bucks. I could actually feel my self esteem crawling back up my legs, over my stomach and up my throat to explode with a "Hey! I'm BACK!" (beam of light shoots out the top of my head). The flirty polkadot poufy skirted number made me feel like Carrie, the rouched red body skimmer screamed Samantha and the demure, yet sexy, black swishy thing had Charlotte all over it. There were plenty of Mirandas in the store, but I was not into dress pants and a belted jacket for the big night.

So thank you ladies at the mall - you made my week. Now I just have to go back tonight with the crew (Ray, Mom and E) and make some serious decisions. I'm rooting for Carrie...