The Story of the Dresses

Penny is a writer with WARA. While answering one of her comments on our blog, I wanted to share the story of the dresses. I decided the story of the dresses is so important that it would be my next blog. I hope you all enjoy them.

Here’s what Penny had to say:

Penny Rader has left a new comment on your post "Where'd THAT come from?":

"...writing talent, ability, and desire are not the stuff of knowing, it is the stuff of exploration."

Wow. Thanks for this, Nina. I'm not one of those people who knew from birth that she wanted to write. I am one of those people who freaks herself out and lets fear get in her way because most of the time I just don't know what to write, or I'm afraid it will be stupid and no one will like it or "get" it. I do get an excited thrill when a scene, or at least part of a scene, pops into my head. I just wish it would happen more often, with more regularity.

Penny and all of us who have fears concerning what people think about what we do and how we do it. You may have a few fears. I have gobs of them. But let me share two stories that give me confidence. (Both are true.)

My dress: It was really long, belted, with a rounded neckline and rounded bodice and had rounded poofie three-quarter sleeves. It was a two-piece dress. The skirt’s fullness was quarter circle to my knees with two more extremely full flounces below that—extending to the bottom hem near my feet. Each flounce made it even larger in circumference at the bottom. It was light in weight made from sheery cotton gauze with muted blue flowers and gray-green leaves. I had to make a slip that went under it (not quite as full as the skirt) or face indecent exposure charges.

I also made the dress. When I moved, it flared. I was chunky to put it lightly--in today's world, Size 20. One memorable night I wore it square dancing at a singles dance club in Denver. I was on top of the world, I loved that dress, so much, but I wasn’t asked to dance every dance. Then, intermission came. The band put on a recorded western swing tune that still plays in my head. It was some sort of waltzy thing, but FAST! The bandleader/caller asked me for a dance--right then. I took the challenge and swept onto the floor--empty except for him and me. He danced me in wide, fast, sweeping circles that took up most of the room. Following his commanding lead, I somehow never missed a step. The other people, dancers and band, clapped when we finished the last dress-flaring turn as the music stopped. He bowed, thanked me for the dance, and I never saw him again. That was one of the best three minutes of my life. My mom, sister, and friends had insisted the dress made me look like a barrel. Didn't matter. I loved the way it moved. If I had not made that dress and had been too afraid of what other's thought to wear it, I would have missed one of the most exciting dances of my life--I'm sure I was asked to dance because of that dress. He wanted to dance with IT! But, if I'd not have been a good enough dancer, we would both have cratered and our mutual enjoyment would have been much less. The dress finally got a couple of tears in it and I had to burn it to keep myself from wearing it. I ended up dancing quite a lot in that dress….

Dress Number 2: (A friend’s)

Black velvet sheath, short length, spaghetti straps. My friend had no business in that dress! It accentuated some not-so-positive portions of her chunky self. However, in that dress, that she made, she felt ever sooooo sexy. With one little twitch, a strap fell. You can't believe how much conversation she encountered because of a fallen strap. It did not look cheap, believe it or not. I think it was because she glowed in that dress, It became, not a dress, but a part of her woman's mystery. That's what the guy's responded to.

So, you see, Penny and everyone, whenever I get to listening too much to whatever someone else says about something I'm passionate about, I remember the dresses.

What you do should please YOU! Then opportunity will arise. Ya gotta be pleased with the dress before you can dance.