Day 16 (or: Just call me the Fairy Godmother)

I feel like something that crawled out from under a rock today. Without going into details, I’ll just say that I’ve been re-visited by whatever horrible germ infected me a week or so ago, and my temples are crashing out the opening timpani part from Bugler’s Dream (Warning:  click on this link ONLY if you don’t have a screaming headache). Not pleasant. Timely, given the onslaught of everything Winter Olympics. But not pleasant.

And I’ve spent the week feeling generally overwhelmed and sneezy and under-pleased. For the most part. Which stinks about as much as the 3-day headache.

In this mildly growly state, I can't help but think back to when I was a little girl, when I imagined that being a grown up woman was all fairy tale princes and taffeta. I obsessively drew (of course I drew obsessively. I was obsessive as a child, too) princesses in flowery taffeta and lace dresses with ornate crowns perched on blonde heads standing in fields of tulips. Until some freaky childcare lady gave me a good shake and told me I had to draw houses on hills. And then I obsessively drew houses on hills with water and boats.

But I digress. My point is that I spent a good deal of time imagining that I would someday be the princess. And somehow I’m just not. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about adult-hood (not seriously, anyway). There’s a great deal to be grateful for and a whole lot about being a “Dult” that I wouldn’t trade in for anything (I do so love “adult” drinks. And I enjoy the unearned clout of simply being 38. And I’m not sorry to be shot of acne).  However there simply hasn’t been a good deal of taffeta in my life since my senior prom in the charmed May month of 1990.  Did I mention that I had two dates to the prom?  Charmed indeed.  And I still remember (with shocking detail) dancing with the love of my early life (who was not my prom date) to Prince's "Purple Rain" for an entire 7 1/2 blissful, dreamy minutes.

I miss taffeta. And I miss dreaming about taffeta and fairy tale dances and romance and sappy love songs. So today, Day 16 of One Thousand Days, I dig to the back of my closet, and pull out the size-8-green-silk-sleeveless-tea-length-rouched-jobby-that-I’ll-never-wear-again-because-I’m-no-longer-a-size-8-and-apparently-I’ve-already-kissed-all-the-frogs-in-the-pond dress and I’m sending it to Cameo Cleaners of Gramercy Park, 284 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Why? Because they will then give it to Operation Fairy Dust who will then give it to a young, stars and hearts in the eyes girl who still dreams of fairy tales and proms. Supporting the silliness of the next generation. It’s a pretty decent day after all!

16 down, 984 to go.