Lonesome Dove Ugly Sweater

Lonesome Dove Ugly Sweater

The Lonesome Dove Ugly Sweater burst into tears and aunts and friends ushered MIL out. We did our best to console the bride, touched up her makeup, and I made her a promise that the dress would never be seen in a photo. She looked me dead in the eye and nodded. The game was on. The venue only supplied white wine and champagne for the wedding party. But I grabbed my purse and ran down into the reception area and managed to flag an attendant by the bar and bribe him with a cool 20$ to give me a bottle of red early. I cracked the baby open, filled a solo cup to the brim with it and stalked outside. After a few swigs from the bottle for courage, I went over to where everyone was getting ready to take photos. With one last hard stare at my friend, I got her nod of approval. I pulled out my phone, held it in front of my face like I was reading a text and walked straight into MIL. I poured the entire cup of red wine down the front of her dress, jumped back and gasped.

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Lonesome Dove Ugly Sweater,

Best Lonesome Dove Ugly Sweater

The Lonesome Dove Ugly Sweater the doors open a few inches until my weight slammed em closed again. Every muscle in my body was searing. Dash was raging at the door, eyes narrowed and feral like I’d never seen, making a guttural, keening growl I’d never heard, ready to launch a vicious attack. I realized I was groaning with effort and terror. The last smash into the door had so much force it knocked me from my full-lean into the door straight up into a standing position. I looked out the thick, textured glass of the small window on the door. Right into Creeps’ eyes. The others were behind him, but he was the one about to come through the door, the one who wanted in. This was it. Keep the candles lit all night, if they go out, get em re-lit right away or fight to the death, there’s nothin else you can do, Dan had said. This was it.

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I don’t think it’s that the Lonesome Dove Ugly Sweater. I’m not a very feminine dresser; I like flannels and jeans and combat boots (Gen X to the core). But I’m short, and it’s hard to do oversized just right when you’re short – and bad-oversized makes me look dumpy. Now, when you’re a beautiful 20 year old, people can tell you are not actually dumpy, you’re just wearing fashionable yet unflattering clothes. But when you’re 54 – there’s a strong chance you’re not being fashionable, you’re just dumpy. I work hard to stay in shape so I’m opposed to clothes that make me look dumpy – clothes are supposed to make me look good, dammit! Then I remember I’m old and don’t give a shit whether stuff is in style or not because I do what I want these days.