The difference between fantasy and reality

Yesterday during lunch, Scotland and I zipped across town to do the final fitting for his tux.

It was very James Bond if you know what I mean.

A dashing black coat, real bow tie and the silk stripe down the pant legs. As he stepped out of the dressing room, the slow orchestra of the Bond movies filled my head and I realized that I was slinking over to him as if in a ball gown rather than my levi capris. My hands flew to his chest and touched the wool jacket in a light caress as I looked up through my eyelashes at him. His crisp white shirt was bright against the black vest and coat, and his French cuffs peaked out beneath his sleeves. A debonair smile crossed his face when he realized

I was about to melt at the sight of him.

I brushed some invisible lint from the collar of his coat as I attempted to collect my once organized thoughts again. He pulled me close to him and kissed me. And then I realized that the sales girl was standing there, arms folded, tape measure around her neck and a rather amused expression on her face.

Oops.

I cleared my throat and turned to the register to pay. Afterwards, we swept off with the tux bag in hand and felt like we were having some stolen holiday from work in the middle of the day.

After our adventure into fantasy land, reality all came crashing back as he handed me about a crazillion home loan papers to sign in the parking lot. Somehow, signing my current last name was a little boring. I much would have much rather been signing Smith.

Smith, Mrs. Smith.

(said in a Bond, James Bond kind of way…and there goes that orchestra music again)

Post script:

Since I woke up this morning at, oh I don’t know THE CRACK OF DAWN I decided to start a little early on my photo primping preparations (say that three times fast) so I started tweezing, scrubbing, etc. I covered my face in a mud mask and then decided I would go downstairs and eat while it dried. As I crunched away at my rice crispies, I looked down at my bowl and noticed little black specks on the white rim. Weird, I thought the bowl was clean when I poured my cereal into it. And as I chewed a little slower, a nice chunk of my mud mask plopped into the milk. I started to laugh, which of course only caused more of my dried mask to sprinkle all over my table and clothes. So, breakfast was ruined, but my skin, well it was bond girl lovely.

Stay tuned for details on how this evening’s photo shoot goes… wish me luck!