A dress to die for... and thousands nearly did.

Despite the fact that I have shed 16 pounds of lard since Christmas, finding a dress for my big party next week has not been easy. I cannot tell you the number of little black, little purple and little red dresses I have tried on.I found my perfect dress - midnight blue, backless, sparkly - within days of beginning the hunt. The only problem was that although it was perfect from the waist down, it was not so perfect from the waist up. I cannot tell you what sort of a dog's dinner I looked... boobs are not all they're cracked up to be...

I can now tell you what most stores within a 50 mile radius of London have for sale in the way of sexy evening dresses. I can tell you what the inside of most changing rooms within that radius look and smell like... I have caught my voluptuous flesh in zips... I have become trapped in bandeau style frocks and had to fight my way both in and out of fabric that could set the Hertfordshire skyline alight with its man made static electricity.On a hot day deodorant has been my only friend.

And now? Daaaa  Daaaaaaaa!!!!!! I have the dress! I have fallen in love with the ladies of John Lewis fashion department for they have saved me. Not only have they saved me, they have primped and preened me, flattered me, brought different sizes for me and told me I was gorgeous!! Other ladies in the changing rooms have gathered around me and told me I was lovely...

It... the dress,  is black... bandeau.... elegant... draped.... fitted... sexy. Its by Coast.I have put it on my credit card and am trying to forget how much it cost - concentrating more on its timeless elegance and the fact that I will look fab going round Tesco's in it when I finally lose my mind. I will wear it with a sheer wrap and diamonds ( let's pretend for a moment that they are real...)

this is not it. this is not me. but its black, its bandeau and you get the idea??


So... thank you John Lewis, thank you Coast.... thank you my friends and family who have had to put up with my whining and misery.... thank you to the girls in Lakeside who nearly sold me a bright red Betty Boop number, but didn't quite.... Yes. Its over. I will post photos another time...

Mary Portas and the over 40's.

I have just uploaded a new photo of m'self. I don't often have photos taken as I tend to be the photographer around here, but this one is ok. I do look a bit manic as I was saying 'sausages' in an attempt to look smiley, whilst telling my son to hold the camera straight.

I needed a photo for a questionnaire that I filled in about over 40's fashion. They are making a tv programme and wanted people to contribute. I am always up for something interesting so I thought it would be fun to apply. As an over 40 year old woman I agreed with the article that I read by Mary Portas in The Telegraph that fashion for us tends to be somewhat dull..How true! I would love to be able to afford lots of expensive  gorgeous stuff, or have the imagination to buy 'vintage' or make my own. But I don't.

I am stuck with high street shops that either cater for girls of about 15 or for rich old ladies.I just want something a bit funky for everyday wear, that doesn't cost a fortune.Just because a girl is over 40 does not mean she is dull, dead and dreadful. No. We are sassy sexy and super! God! That's a lot of alliteration for a Thursday night... Mary Portas has huge experience in retail and even if I don't get on the telly I will watch her show with interest.If anyone can do something about this issue - its her!

What do you think? Are you bored by clothes on offer? I love shopping for clothes, but am not very good at it!! Should you start wearing beige once you're of a 'certain age'?? I say NO!!!

Secret housewife discovers cure for general grumpiness...

It would appear that the cure for unsettledness and general grumpy mum-ness is an hour and a half of football in the rain with your husband and boys and a new pair of black leather boots. The combination of both retail therapy and a good helping of mud, rain and running about has worked wonders.I also have to mention that yet again the wonderful Gail and Urban Cynic have lifted my spirits too.

Although I resisted the idea of going up to the field to play footie ( with all my strength) I did eventually succumb. I borrowed a pair of my son's studs ( football boots with knobbly bits on the bottom ) and headed off with them - prepared for dirt, bruises and wetness.I have discovered that I love playing in studs!! Good grief!! The grip they give you!! And it wasn't scary at all.I even did a header. Well, when I say I did a header, I mean that my Man kicked the ball about 75 feet up in the air and I attempted a header.I am told that one should head the ball on one's forehead, not, as I did, on the top of the head. This 'top of the head' heading induces what can only be described as concussion.

The black boots I mentioned are on my stubby little legs even as I type. I have had my eye on them for a while - soft black, knee length, buckles at ankle and calf top, flat heeled.... Before now I couldn't do the zips up over my well muscled calves, but yesterday... I did. They are not only a comfortable fit, but they had been reduced by £20 !!! Yippeee!!!

So... life is rosier. All I need now is to be  9 stone something instead of 10 stone on Sunday ( that's less than 140 pounds ) when I weigh myself. Oooops.... I hear you sigh... there's always something with this woman...