Yes, I am mortified that I ever dated Gomez now. Mortified. I never should have gone out with him a second time. Not after our first octopus date. But this is a full-disclosure blog, warts and all. So yes, I meet Gomez in Paris. For a disastrous week. And I STILL keep dating him.
posted Sat, 17 Sep 2005
So on Monday, Gomez called and asked if I wanted to meet him in Paris for ten days at the end of September. We could stay with his cousin – she lives by the Eiffel Tower.
Do I want to spend ten days in Paris?? With Gomez??
The Red Shoes are going to Paris for sure.
We had talked about going there in mid-October, but his plans had changed and this worked with his little boy’s school schedule better.
But – could I take the time off from work? Could I get a plane ticket for a decent fare, especially on such short notice? I scrambled and looked and managed, amazingly enough, as I have not done this in almost 15 years, to redeem frequent flier miles. Good thing, as a ticket would have cost me almost $1,000, and I don’t think I like him that much.
Well, maybe I do. Ten days in Paris will go a long way to giving me that information. But I’d rather get it for free.
I’ve been so busy at work I haven’t even had time to tell my mom I’m going.
Mom. I’m going to Paris next Friday. You’ll be able to reach me through my work email, because I have to take my computer. The guy who usually backs me up will be out – he and his wife are expecting their first baby next week.
So. But the really big deal is not that I get to spend ten days in Paris with someone who has turned out to be a really neat guy – well, yes, that is the really big deal – but the second big deal is that I realized as soon as I had my ticket that I had nothing to wear.
You know what that meant.
A pilgrimage to the Junior League Thrift Shop. Holly B, I know you love Target, and I think it’s a great place, too, but you need to find the JL Thrift Shops in the DC area. If Target is church, the JL Thrift Shop is heaven.
I managed to get out of work a little bit early yesterday so I could get there before they closed.
One of the beauties of the Thrift Shop is that there is a real sisterhood there. Once you are in the store, of course. I don’t tell anyone who is my size about it. But it’s at the Thrift Shop that I learned about Topamax, the wonder drug that has not only prevented my used-to-be daily sinus headache/migraines for the past six months but has also helped me drop ten pounds.
Other shoppers have handed me clothes that they have thought would look good on me. Usually, they are right.
Yesterday, a woman handed me The Dress. The Dress that I will take with me to Paris (along with the three skirts, two sweaters, one pair of pants, and eight trash novels – all for $41).
“Try this,” she urged. “You look good in pink. It’s silk. It’s Betsey Johnson.” (A designer I would never pay retail prices for – but I would pay $10 thrift shop prices for.)
It didn’t look that great on the hanger, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
Oh. My. Gosh.
I tried it on and everyone around gasped.
“You have to get it!” they said, including the one lady to whom I had just told the story of the insane, crazy, out-of-character trip I was about to undertake.
“That’s the dress you need to wear in Paris,” she said. “That’s the dress for the kind of adventure you are going to have.”
The end of the line
1 year ago