It's just me

Maybe there is no one else who feels this way. . .

But this weekend, Eric and I traveled to the other side of the state for his Winter work party. It's a pretty fancy shin-dig with pretty decent food (they cooked a fresh GF meal for me!), live entertainment, an open bar, and fantastic door prizes.

This year's party was 1920's themed. On the invitation, they requested 1920's costumes or formal attire.

Now i really love a chance to get dressed up. It's fun to put on fancy clothes and have a night with my husband away from the kids. To have adult conversations and adult food. But as you might imagine, in my life there isn't much need for fancy clothes, so I don't have too many formal dresses just sitting around at my disposal. Shocking, I know.

And my daughter and I were just at a museum exhibition on the late Princess Diana--where they showcased some of her beautiful (and in some cases, especially dated) formal wear.

It made me long to have something new and beautiful to wear to this party. You know, a great little black dress that was flirty and fun and sexy and beautiful. Or a shocking red one or a beautiful blue one. Two nights ago, I spent way too much time searching on-line, hoping to find the perfect dress in my size for $20 or less. I didn't find it.

So when searching in my closet, I had two appropriate dresses, neither of which are especially fancy or rich-looking. I choose the one I loved the most: a simple, vintage 1920's black silk dress I have had since before I had kids. We purchased it off ebay for a murder mystery we were part of. So, I grabbed that dress, my only pair of black heels, and 1920's felt hat. I honestly hoped that I wouldn't look completely out of place amidst the fanciness I was expecting.

Fast forward: leave the kids with Y, drive across the state, step into the elevator to head down to the party. We share the elevator with two couples who are all dressed in period costumes. The women are wearing flapper dresses with long pearls and feathers in their hair. I am beginning to feel stupid in my not-very-fancy dress. We get to the party and see many women wearing versions of the same things: black, white, red flapper dresses, lots of pearls and feathers. And lots of other beautiful dresses on beautiful women. But then I start getting comments on my dress and my hat, how they are obviously vintage & authentic, how I am the only one who could pull off the hat, how great Eric and I look together.

Later as I thought more about it, the dress was a perfect choice. Because then I was who I am to all these people I wanted to put a show on to, because I was real, I was authentic, too. Because I was simply who I am and that felt good; without a fancy costume or feathers or a sexy little black dress.

Even at my age, I find that it is still way too easy to fall into the "what-if-they-don't-like-me" trap or trying to be who others want me to be, instead of who God has created me to be.

And last night, I found great reward in being just who I am.