It happened. I finally received my first invite to a luncheon this summer! In the Hamptons, no less!
An Emotional Moment
Girlfriends, can we talk?
My head is spinning. Now I am gettin’ a hot flash. Do I detect a little underarm perspiration?
I mean, really. This is big news! At least in my teeny tiny world. Someone actually wanted little ole’ me to attend their event. Can you believe it?
And between you and me, this is not your regular iced tea and salad lunch date.
You betcha baby! This is a Hamptons Luncheon, where attendees include a magazine and a celebrity.
Oy vey. I am totally verklmept. Work with me kids. Basic Yiddish 101 for being ‘overcome with emotion’.
You can be sure that when I received the invite, I responded ‘yes’ within 5 seconds. Well, maybe I waited a minute, so as not to reveal my irrational exuberance!
To be clear, I am a refined, highly educated, sophisticated Woman, who knows how to exercise restraint.
Yeah right girlfriends! And believe me when I tell you that this Hot Mama is as subtle as a bull in a China shop!
It has been like forever… since I attended a luncheon.
What do you wear to a ‘luncheon event’ in the Hamptons? I have no idea. Of course, I emailed the person who invited me, and asked “ What is the Attire?”.
I know. I am a total schmuck to even inquire as to what to wear to a Hamptons Luncheon. Like Duh. the answer was: “A dress”.
Sistahs, I knew I would have to wear a dress.
I am sorry. I just feel that I do not look good in a dress. Keep in mind, this is just in my head. On the rare occasion that I ‘don’ a dress, ‘the people’, A.K.A. ‘onlookers’ or ‘gawkers’ always compliment me.
People lie. Sad but true.
So many factors create this poor self-image. On the day that I have to wear a dress, I could have bad belly bloat akin to that of a woman who is 6 months pregnant.
I have very long, skinny legs, which were constantly mocked by other kids during my childhood. Not only was I brutalized for having the name ‘Gay’, but kids managed to refer to me as ‘Olive Oil’ or ‘Chicken Legs’. I know. Nice.
There is some baggage that never gets lost.
However, the funny thing with dresses is that I never need them fitted. I literally waltz into TJ Maxx, pick a dress off the rack, and go home. No, I rarely try on a dress prior to purchasing it, because I can literally ‘eyeball’ the dress style and measurements and know it will fit.
I know, I know. And I am biatchin’ and moanin’ that I don’t like to wear a dress. What can I say?
Pick a Damn Dress
Clearly, I will wear a dress to this event.
Problem: So many dresses to choose! Rumor has it, I have a few summer frocks in my closet. Many of these dresses are pre-pandemic.
Query: Are they still in style? I don’t know. I don’t wear dresses!
The attire for the luncheon calls for a ‘summer dress’. So, it can’t be a fancy schmancy evening cocktail or party dress. Well, scratch those black dresses off the list.
As I peruse through my closet, I find a cute pink dress, another white dress with flowers, you get the picture. This is when I get nervous. Do I try them on? Would they be too loud? Let’s face it, I am loud enough, that I do not need to wear a fuchsia dress to an intimate luncheon. Or can I? I just don’t know!
Emergency Run to TJ Maxx
You betcha baby. I went runnin’ to TJ Maxx to find a new dress. Keep in mind, the dresses in my closet were only worn once (if that).
Of course, I found these beautiful silky, flowy Theory dresses. You betcha baby! I saw another mama oglin’ the dresses.
I ask my sistahs: What is a crazed hot mama to do? You know me to well! I jumped to the rack with those long chicken legs of mine and grabbed the dresses from the rack and ran to the cashier with my AMEX card in hand!
Aw, no hard feelings. Hell no! Sorry biatch… you know the rules in TJ Maxx. If the prized dress is not in your hand, then too bad, so sad for you girlfriend. You snooze, you lose. So sad. Not!
I have a problem. I know, I am fraught with issues.
My hairstylist is Amy, and she is amazing. She books out for appointments months in advance.
2 weeks ago, I show up for my scheduled appointment for my color and haircut. And by the by, this appointment is like clockwork.
However, this appointment is different than all other appointments (and no, this is not a lead-in to Passover). I walk in the door, and Amy does not say ‘hi’, rather, she says in jaw-dropped surprise, “what are you doing here”.
Well, what kind of greeting is that? I’m thinkin’ to myself, which I actually blurted out, “are you kidding me?”. Like OMG. I thought I was going to faint.
Girlfriends, to me, hair is sacred. Excuse Moi, but really.
I have known Amy for 19 years… this never happened. Amy can’t find my appointment in her calendar. Well, wouldn’t ya know that OCD Gay kept the email appointment confirmation from Amy.
Yes ma’m. Exhibit ‘A’: Amy sent me an email that she drafted 2 months ago confirming the appointment she scheduled for me.
Amy could only color my hair, not cut it. Biatch! But what was I to do? I am at her mercy.
Sistahs, the hairstylist is the ruler of my universe. I don’t ask for much in life, just good consistent color and a nice haircut.
And you know what I got that day? Bupkus! Which means not much. The color came out too light, and I needed a haircut, which I did NOT get. I tried to be subtle, and hide my disappoint and tears, but again, that would not be me.
Can you blame me? I flipped out.
To be continued…