A Little Black Dress

It has to be said, the passion has rather gone out of my marriage, don't get me wrong, I love him to bits but we have become like side by side pairs of cosy old slippers!!!.  This Saturday we are off for our 'once a year' night out - I mean we 'visit' throughout the year, we go for the occasional pub lunch and this year, during our summer holiday we went by tube to the theatre and took the park and ride into Cambridge for the day and we went upstairs (on the bus!), which, after years of rationing loo roll was comparable to being whisked off to Paris for the weekend. This Saturday however, is a 'posh frock' affair and that is a very rare event in our calendar.  There is a ritual to the buying of the frock, it starts with . . .
'I'm not going to buy a new dress, I won't wear it again'  Then we move to:
'I'll wear the same one I wore last year, we can't afford a new one'  Then I look online and browse whilst making it clear that I am 'only looking'
eventually I place an order, but only because I've found one that is such a bargain I have to see if it's for real and I can always send it back!. The dress in question arrived but because I was obviously made up from the spare parts of 2 people and my top half bares no relation to my lower half  the bottom bit fitted perfectly whilst the top hung off me like a bag of wet washing.  I ordered the smaller size but only out of curiosity, it arrived during my lounge lope today (goodness knows what the poor delivery man thought I was up to behind the closed curtains but my bright red face, sweat marks and breathlessness must have led him to some interesting conclusions) anyway, late tonight I felt the time was right to try on the dress.  The top was as expected, fine whilst the bottom bit was . . . well, snug! and being snug meant that it ended some ways further up than the larger size.  I analysed it from every angle, did that yes it's great - no, it looks completely ridiculous thing, pulled it, pushed it, twisted it down a bit at the bottom and hoisted it up a bit at the top, I held my stomach in as tight as I could and pinned my arms to my sides so that the flabby bits under my arms didn't show and then walked, well, 'moved' downstairs to see what Andrew thought, well when I say to see what he thought, I wanted to see what he thought provided it was positive.  I guess my mistake was to enter the room saying 'now I want the truth - really, what do you think' but come on, every man knows that doesn't mean 'tell me what you think' well, not Andrew.  I paraded up and down the room thinking 'this is taking a while' his face was worrying now, 'this is taking far too long' eventually he said:
'Maybe it's because I haven't seen your legs for so long' . . . steady
'But I didn't realise, I didn't think . . . I mean, well' . . . 'No, go on, be honest, what do you think' (provided it's you look absolutely gorgeous)
'Well, I didn't realise . . .  that - they were so big'
SO BIG????. . . so now I am not only boobless and shapeless but I have big legs!
'You have to remember' I said calmly through gritted teeth 'that I will be wearing heels' cue walking on toes up and down the lounge
'Of course' he said 'Oh that's different again, yes, that looks really good, it's nice . . . suits you'
Oh well that's ok then, 'cause it 'suits me' - soooo looking forward to Saturday night!!!!