Shit.
Next weekend is an executive barbecue at the Prez's house. Yeah, I'd never heard of an "executive barbecue" either. But apparently they exist.
And of course, I have no frickin clue what to wear.
So I jumped on google, and apparently executive barbecues happen. At least enough to show up in their searches.
According to one website, this is what I should wear....
But there's this thing about floppy arms and farmer tans from fishing, and well, my big ol ass.
Next option please.
There's this top.
But there's the arm thing again. But even worse is the price tag. $155. Did you know that is a spay or neuter and canine dental in my world? Did you know that is two weeks groceries? Did you know that my power bill isn't even that much? I just can't justify that. And then that leaves the bottom wanting a bit of something. Like pants.
But mostly, its the arms.
Next.....
From the well meaning folks at Shoptalk. I dunno. My boobs, while just fine in size...aren't structurally sound enough for that top. And the sandals might be a little S&M for a barbecue with the heavy hitters. Nothing says "smart guy's wife" like S&M sandals.
SO I'm up shit creek without the proverbial paddle. It looks like I'm going to have to break down and go shopping this week. Something summery, but not skimpy. Casual but not redneck. Comfortable and cool, but not cutoff sweat pants and a holey tshirt.
I really do have my work cut out for me this week.
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