Not all white

For some unfathomable reason I have been invited to a white party.

Whoever invented white parties is a sadist.

Actually, let me ask Google who invented white parties …

According to Google:

While there isn’t one single inventor of the white party, they evolved from various influences. The concept of wearing white at events has roots in different cultures and eras, including the upper class’s summer tradition of wearing white attire, and events like Paris’s Dîner en Blanc. However, Sean “Diddy” Combs significantly popularized the all-white party concept with his lavish parties in the late 1990s and 2000s.

I rest my case.

I look terrible in white. Always have. Even white T-shirts look atrocious on me. I think its because I’m a pale, curvy redhead.

But I decided to be polite, do the right thing and follow the theme. And I felt white pants would be the way to go, as white dresses tend to be pretty thin on the ground at Westfield in winter.

Anyways, white pants are also not easy to procure in July, but I managed to find a few in XL that I squeezed myself into.

I looked like a giant witchetty grub in them all.

I did not fancy spending more than $100 to look like a giant witchetty grub. I was about to give up in despair when I wandered into TK Maxx and found a stretchy pair on the sale rack. I would not normally be caught dead in them, but they fitted and price was right at $30. Bargain!

I have a white long sleeved shirt I will wear over the top of them to hide my menopause spare tyre. Party outfit sorted.

The rest of the weekend was unusually quiet, for me. The youngest arrived on Friday for a visit and we’ve been hanging out together eating smashed avo in my local cafe and watching Welcome to Wrexham on Disney +.

Unfortunately we thought it was a one-off documentary rather than a four-season series and accidentally started watching episode one of season four and were slightly confused about the lack of back story, but decided to hang in there because we wanted to see if they scored their third back-to-back elevation in the ranks of the English football league.

I’ve found myself roaring with excitement and throwing my arms into the air every time they score a goal. But I’m still a bit confused by the rules and the talk of tackles when no one has been violently thrown to the ground.

Oh, I also went for two walks with friends, took the dogs for a gazillion walks and convinced the youngest to go for a walk with me; wrote five Drinks Digest stories; got my lashes tinted and my toenails professionally painted; went to the supermarket twice; did four loads of washing; cooked stir-fried chicken noodles and crumbed salmon with sweet potato fries; and was on duty on Sunday for work. But it felt like I was lazy and did virtually nothing, which was lovely.

How was your weekend?

Song of the day: The Moody Blues “Nights in white satin”