REUNITED AND IT FEELS NO GOOD

I'm going to win an Oscar tonight. Of course, its gold sheen will clash with all the brushed nickel and chrome hardware in my new house, but so be it, it's a fricken Academy Award. Besides, I still don't know if that house will be mine at this point.

Anthony always says I should have tried a career in fashion design. (I am warning you up front that this post is going to be WAYYYYY disjointed, as I am still full of tryptophan from yesterday's turkey. No hangover to speak of though...that's interesting?) Anyways, I have been obsessed with women's fashion since I was about eleven years old. I subscribed to "Seventeen" magazine long before any of my girlfriends, who were all caught up in "Tiger Beat." When I was thirteen, I switched to "Vogue," and to this day I am still far more interested in the ads showing off women's clothes, shoes, purses and jewelry than with what is actually in the articles. I look forward to the September edition of Vogue every year because it is an inch and a half thick, and chock full o' ads. Louis Vuitton! Marc Jacobs! Versace! Chanel! St. John! I LOVE IT!

I love the world of high fashion - I admit it. And while I am no model (ha!) and no fashion designer, I must pat myself on the back for being able to put together some pretty fabulous outfits for myself over the years. I've got a designer's eye, my husband says.

Even with our new house, Anthony told me "You pick everything, because you know what you are doing and I don't." I replied, "yeah, because I have built and designed so many houses in my lifetime?" He said I have the right eye for it, though. And last weekend, when the real estate brokers threw an open house in our new home, I couldn't believe all the compliments it got. People loved our light selections; people especially loved our formal living room where I remember saying months ago to the brokers "what if we put the hardwood floor in that room on the DIAGONAL?" Let me tell, you that room is breathtaking because of that decision. Not one to dish out compliments to myself, I guess I do have the gut for design, be it home or fashion.

When I was in high school I didn't have a lot of money so I used to make a lot of my own clothes. My mother taught me how to sew when I was five and spoiled me for life. If I see something in a magazine and I want it but can't afford it, I can knock-it-off in my own living room on my sewing machine with a little blood, sweat and tears. I used to try to pull off some of the looks in "Seventeen" in high school. Sometimes I was successful, and many times I got strange looks. It took me a while to learn that what is good for the runway doesn't necessarily translate into every day life. But I didn't care - it was how I expressed myself, and I learned some great things about color, coordinating, what looks go with what styles, etc. I love fashion.

This is why I was particularly annoyed this past summer when I went shopping for some new clothes; lately, I have abandoned my once fashion-aware ways, and I use clothes for one purpose and one purpose only - to prevent me from being naked. I have two bins packed away in my parent's basement that contain 35 designer suits, which I wore to work every day when I used to work in Boston. But now that I work in the suburbs in a casual office, my daily dress consists of jeans, a baggy sweater, a pair of Ugg boots and no makeup. If I am lucky I have blown my hair dry; but usually it is wet and slicked into a ponytail. I no longer resemble myself. Me, I used to care about my appearance. I used to give a shit about what I left my house wearing. I used to never leave the house without makeup on. This new person that I have become who doesn't care about how she looks - I don't recognize her. I don't know who she is.

Suffice it to say that I was not planning on attending my High School Reunion this year. I went to both my 5-Year and my 10-Year, which were fun. But let's not forget what these things are all about: they are all about seeing how people look X years later. There are those who may disagree with me, and this certainly is not the intended point of a reunion, but ultimately it becomes a night of "Man does she look great!" or "Wow look how fat she got" or "Wow, he really lost a lot of hair" or "He looks the same as he did back in high school" or "Nice beer gut on so-and-so." Admit it - this is what a lot of the conversation becomes at these things. It is sad but true. And I wasn't going to go because I don't want to be on the receiving end of "look how fat Dawn got." Especially because I was artificially thin at our 10-Year. Sandra and I worked out religiously for ten months leading up to our 10-Year reunion, with intense kickboxing and spinning classes several times a week. We both looked fabulous, but I must admit that I was thinner than I can EVER remember being, a thin that will never be normal for a girl like me. So even though I have recently lost 13 pounds, I still weigh 25 more pounds than the false version of thin that I was five years ago, and I just don't want to be the one being gossiped about tonight. (Oh, Sandra, how I WISH you were coming tonight - I will miss you!!!)

But....I am going. An old friend of mine told me he was coming up from New Jersey to go to the reunion, and I miss him dearly. I never get to see Paul anymore, and in my mind I said it was time to put selfish fear aside and just go for no other reason than to spend some time with your old friend. Because that is what tonight is SUPPOSED to be about - catching up. Regardless of how you feel or look. So I am going.

And this is where the magic tricks and optical illusions begin.

Trick # 1: Bring husband.

Anthony is coming with me, thank God! He is handsome and makes me proud. He is something that I can walk around tonight feeling good about, even if I don't feel good about myself. More importantly, when I get asked for the 100th time "So, do you have any children?" he'll be there to hold me just a little tighter until the question stops bothering me. Or until I am too drunk to hear the question.

Trick # 2: Find a pre-reunion pit stop.

Done. I picked a bar which is about a five minute drive away from the reunion where a few of us are going to meet up for "pregame." In other words, knock back a few drinks so that we can handle walking into the place. This will also enable us to be fashionably late. I can think of nothing worse than being the eager beaver who is the first person to show up at a High School reunion. Ew.

Trick # 3: Fake it, fake it, fake it.

This is the most involved trick of all, and it involves lots of props and a hell of a good acting ability. But I am ready to give my Academy Award winning performance tonight, all the wheels are in motion.

I will smile, be friendly, laugh, and actually appear to be having a ball.

No one will know about my house situation which is crumbling around me. If the subject does come up I will make a funny joke about "ha ha, fifteen years later and I STILL live with my parents, what a riot!"

If people ask me about children I will smile and say "Well, we're still working on it!" Anthony will robotically know that this utterance from my lips "we're still working on it" translates to "Anthony, get me another drink RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"

The biggest and most important illusion, of course, is all about the appearance. Once I made the decision about seven days ago that I would actually go to the reunion, I have been working non stop on this. I dusted off the cobwebs in brain that used to worry about my appearance and got right to work.

"DRESS: CASUAL"

This, for me, was a blessing in disguise. The 5- and 10-Year Reunions were both formal, with men in suits and women in cocktail dresses. I just could not deal if that were the call for tonight. But "casual" opened up a whole world that I could work with. Granted, I have ended up on the dressy end of casual, but you tell me, don't you think that a lot of the women will be dressed in their best, despite what the invitation says? I think so. No one is going to show up in jeans and a tee shirt - no one. So I've been shopping for a week and I think I have come up with a fabulous outfit:

Black velvet jeans, which make me actually look slim (see? I'll be wearing jeans, that is casual!)
A silver lace camisole top from Ann Taylor
Black satin high-heeled open toed shoes with rhinestones across the bridge
Silver rhinestone chandelier earrings
A metallic silver clutch purse

And to throw it all together? I ransacked all of my boxes in my parent's basement looking for the one article of clothing I already own which will just make this outfit to die for - and I found it:

A Hot-Pink Satin trench coat. It is SO fabulous. So completely Sarah Jessica Parker.

I am so damn proud of this outfit I have pulled together.

Did I stop there? Hell no, I was on a roll now. I haven't exercised these muscles of mine in a long, long time. I got my nails and feet done with a pretty metallic pearl white color, to match all the silver I've got going on. And, hey, just for the hell of it, I have an appointment today at Nordstroms at the MAC counter to have them do my makeup. Why not, I say. Why not?

I still haven't figured out how I am going to do my hair, but that is okay. One way or another I will make it work. I recently had it cut a little shorter than usual and I am still adjusting to "how to do it."

As Billy Crystal once said, "It is better to look good than to feel good, and you look MAHVELOUS." This is my mantra for tonight.

I will look good. I will pretend that I feel good. I may even look happy from time to time.

The only problem is, when they hand me that gold Oscar statue, it is going to clash with my silver outfit!!!!!

A DAY FOR GIVING THANKS

We interrupt our regularly scheduled bitch-fest to take a moment to acknowledge all the things that Dawn and Anthony have to be thankful for on this Thanksgiving Day.

It has been a hard year for the two of us - no doubt - but....

We have our health.

We have each other.

We are on the brink of owning our dream house.

We have insurance coverage for our IVF treatments.

We have seen Anthony's "problem" not only get resolved, but actually get resolved for the better.

We have loving, strong, supportive families who love us very much and who have shown us over the last six months that they would do "anything" for us.

We have a baby coming into my extended family, one month from today - a baby who, despite the fact will not be mine, will bring me much joy and love and laughter and happiness.

In the day to day, it has become so easy to wallow in self-pity and "poor poor me" sentiments, but the truth is what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, and we will emerge from all of this victorious BECAUSE of all of the POSITIVE things I have listed that we can actually be thankful for.

Here's hoping you all have fabulous Turkey Days.

I'm going to go get hammered now on some Rum-Cider. My first alcohol in four months. Should get interesting.

MISERY TRUMPS ECSTASY

There was an open house yesterday at the new house we’re building. Not because the house is for sale again. Rather, the brokers had an open house there because it is almost done and it is the best house at the moment to use to show the workmanship of the builder; as it is, there is one house on our street remaining to be sold but it is not far enough along to show.

Anyways, long story short, we got to go to the open house yesterday, which was a treat because the house is locked up all the time and we never get to see it. It is absolutely gorgeous. In some ways, I look at the house and think it is the most beautiful house I have ever seen in my life. It is everything I ever wanted or hoped for in a home. There is nothing I would change about it. Nothing. I am in love with it. It is already “home” in so many ways. We built this house from the ground up; every room has specific details that are our own ideas and creation. It is customized exactly to our own ideals. It is truly awesome. It came out even better than I ever dreamed it would, and it is not often that my expectations are exceeded.

We’re so damn close. The closing is happening on Wednesday, December First. That is eight days from now.

And yet all I do these days is cry.

I am sure there are many people in the world who look at me and say “you spoiled brat. Poor, poor you, worrying about your big beautiful house, life is just SO hard for you.” I feel this way a lot, actually, that who the hell am I to complain when I have this big beautiful house coming my way.

But the thing is, I complain and I cry because it is in jeopardy. Because we’ve come this close and yet it could still slip through our fingers just like THAT. And to come so far – SO FAR – and then lose this house….I just don’t know. It will be hard to recover from.

I called our buyer’s broker today to give him a little bit of knowledge. “Do you understand that we have only four days remaining to get this done?” I asked him. This is assuming that no one will be willing to work the day after Thanksgiving. We would be willing to do it then, of course, but to assume that they are willing to, at this point, is pure folly. “Do you understand that we MUST close on Dec.1 on our house – we have no wiggle room? Do you understand that if this closing does not happen, we cannot close on our new house because we won’t have the money? We do not have the luxury of being able to postpone our closing. If we don’t get this done in the next eight days, then there is no house to sell to your clients because we will have lost our new house and we will need to move back into our old home. Do you UNDERSTAND THIS?”

I got the usual “I know, I just don’t have a date yet, as soon as I know something I will call you, thanks for being so patient” bullshit as a response back.

I understand that this happens every day. People sell houses to buy houses and there are always issues, all the time. This is normal. But I just can’t handle it anymore. I sit at my desk and cry and people think I am a lunatic. I feel like I am having a heart attack. I can’t sleep at night.

And I can’t fucking enjoy my new house or even get excited about it. I want to – I want to SO MUCH. But I can’t, because there is still such a huge part of me that is waiting for the other shoe to drop. I am waiting for the phone call from our buyers stating that “the deal is off.” I am waiting to get fucked over the way life has been fucking us over this entire year.

Like I said, I know I sound like a whiny, spoiled brat, and I hate that I am being this way. It is just that I am so defeated by life overall these days that I just don’t know how to be optimistic anymore. I don’t know how to be patient anymore. I don’t know how to not expect disappointment anymore. I know things could be a hell of a lot worse, that other people have much bigger problems than we do.

It is just that I no longer have any sort of coping mechanism. That, my friends, is the problem. I absolutely surrender.

Whoever “you” are, you thing or being or entity who is apparently out to get Anthony and I this year – you win. Okay? YOU WIN!