DAY 98: THE CASE OF THE MISSING SLIP

     My half-slip’s gone missing.  Yes, I still wear a slip under dresses and skirts.  Why?  It’s lady like.  It looks better that to go without one.  And, yes I probably should have grown-up or lived in the 1940s.  I don’t like the see-through crap girls wear nowadays, so I wear a slip.  And I don’t like how dresses cling to me or my tights in the winter if I don’t have a slip on, so again, I wear one.

     As a regular slip wearer, when mine went missing it was almost as if the apocalypse happened.  Okay, maybe not the apocalypse but something very upsetting to me.  Then I went into full search mode and overturned every drawer and dresser I have.  No luck.  I didn’t find my slip and had to go to work without one under my dress.  (I’ve been searching for my half-slip for over a week and I still can’t find it.  I am in anguish over this.)

     Talk about major distress.  I felt miserable today with my dress clinging to my tights.  I wore a long sweater-coat over my dress to camouflage the clinginess, but you can still see it when I walk anywhere.  And I walk anywhere a lot.  I got to the bathroom often—still drinking 80 ounces of water as recommended by that 21 Day Challenge (forgot to mention that ended on Sunday, just in the nick of time for me to eat my weight in Halloween candy) and sometimes I just go for walks around my company’s facility for a break.  I even tried the hair-spray trick.  (You know—spraying hairspray on your dress or tights to stop the cling; and then realized I’d used up the all the hairspray in my travel size bottle for the office and had replaced it with water. Nice move.)  But it didn’t work.  Obviously.

     I realize I could’ve bought a new half-slip last night at the store and saved myself this day of cling and the mess that’s now my bedroom.  But I can’t imagine buying a new one when I know there are two in my apartment that I’ve lost in the past month.  How does one lose a half-slip?  Or two for that matter?  I don’t know, but I’m out of my mind over it.  Literally.  I just wrote an entire blog entry about a half-slip.  How’s that for not having your wits about you? 

     Did I mention I like wearing dresses?  I didn’t wear my first pair of jeans until I was in the third grade.  Mom used to sew most of our clothes (No we were not Amish and yes, her home-sewn clothes actually looked nice.  She could do some fancy tailoring.)  and we had tons and tons of dresses.  I finally wore a pair of jeans, a hand-me-down pair from my neighbor Shelly Turner, who’d affixed a Ms. Pac-Man patch to the right-hand-side back pocket of her (my) styling awesome 80s jeans, one day in the middle of third grade.  I put those jeans on knowing I was going to follow a boy—his name was Brad—home from school that afternoon and needed to wear pants so I could climb over fences and walls that he’d for sure make me go over since I don’t think he was that into me.  And he did.  But he ended up coming over the next day to play MacVegas with me on our new Macintosh computer…  Not bad for chasing some boy home from school, huh?  (Told you Apple computers were cool—ours gave me game in the third grade!)

     Anyway, back to my half-slip mess.  I want you to know I tried to wear a full slip with my dress today, but it was too long.  It’s now bed time, there’s no full moon, and I’m still looking for my slip.  I don’t think I can sleep until I find it.  So so sad.