I bought a dress on Etsy that I was SURE would be way too small, but I was convinced I could alter it in some way to fit my post-Thanksgiving body, and use it as my Holla-daze dress. I started panicking because it was really expensive, which was a stupid thing to invest in when I was so sure it would be too tiny for me. It was delivered yesterday and I had Darien open it over the phone and tell me if he thought it would fit. "It's definitely... tiny." Ugh. Darien. Wrong thing to say. Always. So while he is driving around town, I am having him measure different parts of it and tell me how big/small it is, all while using an iPod cord to measure my own waist, bust, torso to see if there is any conceivable way I could get it to fit me. I was like, damn, there goes all that hard-earned money. Maybe I can sell it to someone else. The only other time this happened was when I bought a HUGE tunic from someone in the UK on Etsy and I wore it once because it was too gigantic to ever make work. I told myself I'd take in the sides, and when I did, it didn't look right. So now it just lives in my closet as a constant reminder than I am wasteful, impulsive, and shouldn't be given access to the Internet, ever. So, I made Darien drive across town, out of his way, to drop the dress off at my work (a half hour before I was set to go home anyway). I'll never understand his kind of patience with me, because I would EASILY be like, "hell no." Like? Why would I drive across town to give you something that you could have in a half hour anyway? Are you insane, Karin? Are you that out of touch with being an adult? So out of touch that you have to spend money on the Internet on dresses marked "XS" with a 25" waist that you can wear over the HOLIDAYS where you will probably earn yourself some high society diabetes due to all the sugar and fat consumption on the daily for 2 weeks?

Oh, anyway, it fits perfectly. Good thing I didn't waste that Xanax.