The Big Girl's Guide to Buying Lingerie

5. GREAT EXPECTATIONS

In honor of my first class case of nerves, I’d stopped on my way home and bought a bottle of wine.  Otherwise, I’d be up all night fretting and fretting … and fretting.  I had to work Wednesday and that meant getting some sleep.  Somehow.  I’m a cheap date.  Two glasses of wine would put me out like a light.  At least that was the plan.

In the last ten days my routine had completely bit the shit and I’d begun to feel like a headless chicken.  I’d managed to do just enough Pilates so that I didn’t walk like a rusty robot anymore, and I’d spent every afternoon off searching for a skirt, the right pair of earrings, or getting a pedicure and manicure.  I’d never get caught up on the list mail.  And I’d never had this problem before. 

All thanks to Robbie. 

Not that I was complaining, mind you. 

After hanging up with him, I shut down the computer.  For the first time in a long time we wouldn’t be up late talking. 

And in less than twenty-four hours we’d be having dinner together.  Dancing. 

Glass of wine in hand, I smothered a whimper and crossed the small hallway to my bedroom. 

Laid out across the bed was my outfit.  Black strappy sandals studded with red rhinestones, like something out of an old black and white dance movie, and my special find in a plus size resale shop, a sexy black asymmetrical skirt.  One side brushed my ankle while the other was cut up to my knee.  It looked absolutely fabulous.

While Drew Hartford serenaded me from the stereo on my dresser, I soaked in the tub with my wine, shaved my legs and bikini area then rinsed off.  Not that he’d actually see my bikini area but as a matter of pride, I shaved everything and trimmed too. 

Then sat on the commode lid, my feet propped on the edge of the tub, digging and filing at my toes.  Ten days and two pedicures after my new leaf turning, I’d made a lot of progress with my poor neglected fingers and toes but still had a ways to go.  Much like the rest of me, they were sadly out of shape and I found myself assuming the oddest positions and gasping for air while trying to get the polish on my toes and not make a huge mess.

While the base coat dried, I moussed my damp hair, tossed on an oversized t-shirt, featuring some long-since-faded Disney character, and tried again to duplicate the style I’d found in a magazine.  Parted on the side, smoothed down in the front and tucked behind my ears.  I turned this way and that in the oversized mirror checking the retro asymmetrical ‘do from every angle, relief and excitement filling me at how everything seemed to be coming together so beautifully. 

Even without hairspray, my hair looked good.  After combing it out, I labored through the application of bright red polish on my toes. 

While they dried, I hobbled around my bedroom on my heels, packing for my trip home on Thursday and tidying up.  By the time I was done you could actually see the cinnamon colored velvet of the chaise my suitcase sat on. 

Like the rest of my bedroom furniture, the chaise had been my grandmother’s.  I’d never known her, but bless him, Daddy had insisted I take some of her antiques when I moved south three years ago.  Even if the ornate Greek key design carved into the queen-sized bed, dresser and chaise weren’t my style, I found having her things rather comforting, since he also said I was so much like her.  The carpet in my room was the same plane navy as the rest of the house but the walls were a pale sand with the half wall that made up my closet painted a shocking rust to go with the chaise--my favorite southwestern colors.  It all looked so cozy.  Maybe I should turn over a new leaf in regard to cleaning also.

Wait a minute.  One thing at a time.

The alcohol and activity had helped until I tossed back the last of my wine, shut out the lights and crawled under the covers.  I still had one last thing hanging over my head.  I hadn’t told Robbie about my little problem.  Okay, big problem.  All two hundred and seven pounds of me.  I’d tried while he talked and I’d typed, but a knot had formed in my stomach and my fingers had gotten all cold and stiff and I just…couldn’t.  At least he’d admitted to being nervous, too, and given me an out.