SPECIAL NOTE: Today is my birthday. I am FORTY F*CKING EIGHT. I’m only telling you that because for sixty-three days I’ve been holding out waiting for a “special day” to share the strapless, rhinestone-studded, tiger-print Ed Hardy dress, but then day drinking Mother’s Day happened and I didn’t have time to get my shit together so I PINKY PROMISE YOU IT’S COMING TOMORROW.  In this meantime, please enjoy this train wreck:

Remember the one-shoulder dress that didn’t even have a single shoulder? Well, meet its fraternal twin, the ivory sweater that’s not even a little bit ivory.


Before we talk about this ivory sweater, allow me to make a proclamation right here [places left hand reverently to heart; lifts right hand in standard oath-swearing stance]: I do not photoshop any of these photos. For one thing, I do not own photoshop. And even if I did, I would not know how to use it. That said, like you I can see that in this photo it appears that I have one gigantic boob and one relatively meager one (I PROMISE YOU I DON’T, and also I assure you that I would never try to pretend that I do). Also even to me, there appears to be something funky going on near that pocket on the right. I’m here to tell you that it’s the light, or the sweater itself, or maybe the drawstrings at the waist (we’ll get back to those in a sec) are doing something funky, because I did not digitally manipulate this photo, as sad as that may seem.

Like many of the garments I seem to have a hard time parting with, I paid what I consider way too much money for this sweater. I don’t know if you do this, but I’ll try stuff on and decide in my head what my Max Threshold will be before I even look at the price. Every item has one, but I don’t always play by my own rules. This sweater was a good fifty bucks over my admittedly arbitrary MT, but I bought it anyway. At the time, it was a lovely shade of ivory. But then I wore it and it got stained (because life) and I COULDN’T GET THOSE DAMNED STAINS OUT NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRIED, even though I’m sort of famous for my stain-removal skills, swear to god. But I also couldn’t just throw it away (because genetics), so I decided to dye it!

Dying it would fix everything

Well. First of all, the dye I chose was supposed to be black. Apparently, in Overpriced Sweaterland, ivory plus black equals muddy plum. And remember the little drawstrings on the sides I told you about? Yeah, I probably should have untied them before I dyed it.

It’s misshapen. It’s a hideous color. I overpaid for it. It’s a decade out of style.  It has drawstrings and a kangaroo pocket, for the love of God. I will not wear it around the house, or sleep in it, or save it for Halloween.

Buh-bye ugly sweater.  I’m sorry you had to dye.