Dressing Room Diva

Maine is a land of many treasures. There are mountains, and mooses, and students, and movies, and... yes... several bars. But really... Maine is not a hub of cultural diversity or diversion. So my roommate and I got pretty creative when we needed to get out of the apartment and have some fun. One of our favorite things to do was hit the Ross, T.J. Maxx, Marshalls circuit and try on ridiculous dresses.

So... feeling precocious and in need of fun times, I resurrected the activity and did some dressing room dramatics. Please enjoy. (Or just stop reading. Either way... I won't know.)

I'd like to start by showing you just a few of the ways that Ross can hurt an LBD.

Now... the flowers are bad... yes... let's just look at the shape that this dress creates. I feel like there are two very important accessories that are not being given the proper respect. I'll also take this chance to apologize for my over-expressive facial contortions. The girl can't help it.


This little number reminds me of something one of the Golden Girls would wear if she were in her twenties on the show. It's got all the "NO"s: a bubble, some rick rack, and a really awkwardly blunted deep-V. Thank you for being a friend, but really... no thanks.

Here we have a little black dress complete with two extra bolts of fabric, just in cases. You never, ever know...

I have mixed feelings about this dress. I love paisely but this dress is just a little too champagne glass with chocolate handles. And if you didn't get that reference, then you need to pay more attention to Prince.


Okay... there is nothing wrong with this dress. It's classy. And shiny. And if I were 18, the role of girl-who-can't-stop-pulling-up-her-dress-at-prom would be played (really well) by me. In this dress.


Cute overload. This dress screams "Coffee, Tea, or Me?" Of all the dresses I tried on, this is the one I debated buying. Didn't. But I debated.

Let's throw some color into this dressing room!

I'm thinking Austin Powers girl #3 or maybe even Foxy Brown before she gets into the really violent parts of the film that demand the one-piece jumpsuits. Holla if you've seen a Foxy flick!


I was hoping this dress would make me look a lot tanner than it did. As it turns out, it's more Pebbles Flintstone than Portia de Rossi.

This burgundy ensemble is the perfect choice for the elegant linebacker out for a nice evening of ribs and brew with the boys.

My apologies for the disturbing headlessness of this pic: you're not missing anything. Anyway... this dress is my nod to the Mad Men epidemic that seems to be sweeping Facebook.

And... finally... this dress reminded me of an Easter dress. I used to get a fancy Easter dress every year (at Easter, did I mention?) and towards the end there, it was really a dreaded activity. Though my sister loved the dresses, I was decidedly not a fan for a while there. The random yet horrible clumping of white flowers on this emerald green dress resulted in a dress that should only be seen from the back.

Ah... doesn't it always feel a little bit like Christmas when you put your own clothes back on after a bout of dressing room dramatics? Everything just seems to fit so much better.

So there you have it. A day in the dressing room with Amanda. What do you like to do on a slow Tuesday in an even slower town? Fellow dressing room divas should also feel free to out themselves. We're all friends here.

Fear Conquering 101: Brussel Sprouts

Now, I don't like to delve into my dusty past, but I'm going to do it right now.

Just work with me.

When I was quite young, my mother was inspired by who-knows-what-or-whom to introduce her family to brussel sprouts. I believe that her brilliant sprout preparation involved boiling them. Or steaming, but I don't think she had gotten the steamer at that point. Anyway... whatever she did to them rendered them grass-like and completely unappealing.


Well... at this tender age, I enjoyed very many vegetables. This brussel sprout, however, did not go over well. I had quite a fair amount of trouble swallowing the brussel sprout and there was some crying and mild amount of hysteria. Not my finest hour.


My mother, in her infinite wisdom, decided that this was the first time that she would enforce the 'eat all your vegetables or you can't leave the table' rule that I had heard rumor of from my little friends.


Add in the cackling presence of my brother, sister, and both parents and this brief introduction to the brussel sprout turns into something reminiscent of a harrowing scene from A Christmas Story. And, yes, I am a little bit unimpressed that this story still gets my family rollin'.


You know what folks? The joke's on you because this week I roasted brussel sprouts a la The Post Punk Kitchen and I ate all of them. Happily. They were wicked good. I've conquered my fear of the almighty brussel sprout and now I need to pass on the goodness.

Mom: I love you, but your brussel sprouts suck. I dare you to roast them. Be honest, you didn't like them the first time either.