In a few weeks, I have to attend a fundraising event benefiting the museum where I work. This Black & White Social is a trendy affair (think Carrie Bradshaw and her peeps) sponsored by an upscale salon and spa. Our staff will be treated to complimentary salon service the day of the event and we’re expected to dress in trendy attire.
Can a pleasingly plump middle aged women pull off trendy?
I’m hip. I saw the premier of the Sex In the City movie with my 20-something daughter (the one with a shoe closet the size of a small bedroom). I’ve got a bead on up-to-the-minute style. What I don’t have is a size 4 body on a long, leggy frame. One thing I noticed in the movie, Hollywood starlets may grow up but thanks to personal trainers they never grow out – of their designer wardrobes.
This is a weighty issue for most of us real-world, midlife divas. Sure, if I could afford a personal trainer to haul my wide load out of bed for a 6 a.m. jog around the park every morning, I’d be looking pretty good. So what’s keeping me from lacing up my tennies and hitting the pavement anyway? My first guess would be that there is no beef cake with sculpted pecs and buns of steel waiting to put me through the paces. Let’s face it, that’s the real motivator.
And how can I be sure that these silver screen goddesses haven’t had a nip or tuck here and there? Say I resist the lure of the snooze alarm, commit to at least 40-minutes of sweatin’ like an oldie every morning and I still can’t fit into my skinny jeans?
Yesterday I raided my daughter’s shoe closet. I’m hoping that the Steve Madden gladiators with three-inch heels will put me over the top for trendy.
Actually I’m just hoping I don’t fall off of them. Wish me luck.
. . . . . . mid
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