Probably why I’m not rich. . . .

I was bored on Saturday, and when girl is bored, and poor what is she to do? I’ll tell you what she’s to do, she’s to find a friend, drive to a ritzy (and far way) mall try on formal wear and take pictures of each other in the dressing room. (I should have the pictures back Tuesday; maybe I’ll be able to post one for jollies) I was trying to use up some old film, and this seemed the perfect opportunity.

This outing made me realize why God chose me to be poor. It’s prom season, and just when we were finished with our fun, we were walking out of the store when we passed by the juniors section. There, before our eyes was the most amazing dress we had yet seen. It was a Barbie-pink-sparkly-super-poofy-monstrosity. The skirt was four feet in diameter, the dress could stand up by it’s self. It was amazing! My friend immediately grabbed one and ran to the dressing room. I followed with the camera. We got two pictures taken before the attendant said, “I hate to tell you this, but you can’t take pictures in the store.”

DRAT! There was certainly more fun to be had with that dress. However, I obediently put my camera away, as she gathered her skirt to wade back to her changing stall. We continued to talk about that dress the rest of the afternoon, finally concluding, if we were rich we would each buy a dress like that. We would buy all the accessories (shoes, tiara, gloves, costume jewelry (maybe even a wand and a pair of wings!) and dance around the mall. We would ice skate, then take it to the streets.

We would go to important places like Walmart, dollar stores, dollar theater, ghetto skating rink, the falafel place for sure. We would be followed by a camera man, and maybe a cellist.

Life would be good with a Barbie-pink-sparkly-super-poofy dress.

It cost $358.00. I would do it. Maybe that’s why I’m not rich.