Not surprisingly, shopping in some of the trendier outlets geared towards a younger generation failed to yield any viable options for me. Forty may be the new thirty, but my body didn't reflect it well in harsh lights amidst teenagers and twenty-somethings in itsy bitsy clubbing clothes. While the bumpy red keratosis pilaris rash on my pale upper arms was not contagious, it certainly did not need to be highlighted in a strapless dress. Despite Sir Mix-a-Lot’s ode to the big booty, flimsy stretch fabric didn't do it justice. I hadn’t given myself enough lead time to find an off the rack dress, or a workout regimen that would help me feel confident in those revealing fashions. After my gorgeous daughter’s disastrous experience ordering a school dance dress online, I did not even consider that for myself. Nor did I have the several weeks required to indulge in my friend's custom tailored dressmaker. Yes, I even shopped resale and rental options without success. At about this time panic sets in and I start looking for someone else to attend the party in my place.
Finally, on the day before the event, I found an oversized dark purple bridesmaid dress on sale that I modified with safety pins to fit. The sheer layered mesh skirt was so long that it required high heels to avoid tripping. It came with a matching modesty scarf that became flowing pseudo sleeves to camouflage my flabby armpits and chicken skinned upper arms. Am I so unusual for preferring some arm coverage options at my age?