Week 4

   I can feel a random hand reach around my hip, and clumsily cop a feel. I swat it away like it's an annoying mosquito and move as far away as I can manage. Beads of sweat drip down every part of my body and a tall guy smiles and without giving me a choice, lends me his sleeve as he wipes it over my forehead. My ears are ringing as the bass vibrates against the walls. A group of intoxicated and giggling girls stagger in nearby and start dancing, consuming the last one foot of space I had in front of me.  It’s like a feeding frenzy of hungry pigeons in the park, but instead of bread crumbs that started this raid, it's Rihanna. Something happened in the last hour, where liquid confidence consumed the masses and the walls are starting to close in and now I barely have room to bust out the Roger Rabbit move. That means its time for the Bulldozer. Yes, I pack heat and its not the guns you're thinking about. It’s all about the Booty Bulldozer. I start swinging my hips, and backing it up. My butt is not shy and it can take the space of five people if I use it properly. I swing it round and round, left to right, right to left, then in a figure eight motion, and I can feel it knocking people out of the way. Then I quickly shake it more, and again, popping it hard this time, left, right, left...boom, boom, boom, pow!  It’s working because bitches are backing off and the dudes just don’t know what to do with all that jiggle so they move out of the way. Suddenly, I have swept a circle of space and find myself and my friend in the middle of it. Ahh, room to move, now that’s what I call dancing.

   I first discovered this method of making more space on the dance floor back in my college years. I was drunk and claustrophobic one random night and it just sort of happened where I began to use my strongest asset as a weapon. Now, after the years, I've kept this as my fail safe method to make space when needed, and I honestly haven't busted out the Booty Bulldozer in a looong while. But on a Friday night, in the Marina district, it quickly all came back to me. And better yet, now I can maneuver it without the need of liquid courage.

   I have been blessed with non-gaudy bridesmaids dresses. Thanks to those friends for not making this blog about '27 Dresses' , reminiscent of the Katherine Heigl movie. No,  I have not been in 27 weddings, only 3 for that matter; all of those dresses are totally re-wearable. And a big thank you to my fantastic friend Billie, who let me pick out my own bridesmaid dress, with the only requirement being that it was beige.  So I decided to wear my Free People beige bridesmaid dress out again. This time around I decided to forgo the bouquet of flowers and instead went with a belt and brown boots. If there is dancing involved, boots all the way. I've tried to get funky in heels, but in reality, it just ain't the same. Dancing in high heels is like wearing a chastity belt for your feet because they just restrict you from getting down and dirty!  And by the end of the night you'll probably end up barefoot with completely soiled feet smelling like beer. I learned that in college too. Now at 30, I'm older and wiser, so it is ALL about the boots.

   Before I left for my collegiate studies my mom gave me very valuable advice. She sat me down and told me the importance of college. She said the real  reason to go to college is to meet boys and have fun. Well, I did do that, but come on, that time of my life was more then just 'guys and fun'! I learned some very, very, valuable life lessons that I am rediscovering in my 30s. I learned to dance in comfortable shoes, and that if you want space on the dance floor, you can't be scared to make some.

Week 3

   A Prince Charming comes in all varieties, with all degrees of heroics, and in the most unexpected, random places. He’s the young boat captain in New Zealand that rescued my Merrell shoe that slipped off my foot while I was bungy jumping off the Auckland Bridge, later to have placed it back on my socked foot. I totally got Cinderella beat:, bungy jumping is way better then running away from a ball.  He’s the dude that opened the door for me at Starbucks and didn't mind that in doing that, he was one more person behind in line to get his coffee. He‘s the Hawaiian spear fisherman that helped me swim against the strong current to get back to the shore in Kauai. He’s the random bloak at the grocery store that let me have the last 6 pack of Racer Stripe IPAs. He’s the Scottish forester that offered to build me my own art studio if I stayed on the tiny isle of North Uist. And he’s even the tow truck driver that came and fixed my flat tire. That last prince, the tow truck driver, well I met him this Thursday night while I was wearing a dress.

   Yes, when I met Daryl, 'tow truck saver-person', it was definitely one of those times I didn't want to be wearing a dress because I was outside in a cold parking lot instead of a cozy restaurant.  I was on my way to the city to be adventurous alone, but  fell flat, haha. I made it only as far as Corte Madera, then, BOOM, my tire exploded, and I ended up at the Macy’s in the Village Shopping Center.  At least I had something to do while waiting for my rescuer to arrive. Watching Daryl as he jacked up my car got me thinking about these Knights in Shinning Armor. They may not be as grand or prevalent as in our Disney-induced fantasies growing up, but they’re there.  I feel like I meet these kind of men, these rescuers for damsels in distress, yet I don’t realize it until later. And they may not ride in with a white horse or go by the name of Bond and drive an Aston Martin, but they appear occasionally.  It may just be a small gesture or perhaps a shinning quality rather then a shinning outfit, but hey, I’m taking notice. So, I say thank you to the rare men that offer a glimpse of chivalry or modern version of chivalry.  And even though a lot of times I say I don’t want to be rescued, I’m a self-reliant and an independent woman, I secretly kind of do. Maybe if I didn't grow up with Snow White or the Little Mermaid and instead was brought up on G.I Jane and Million Dollar Baby I’d have a change of heart. But since that wasn't the case and because I completely do appreciate a modern day Prince, I’m reconsidering moving to Scotland. I wonder if that offer is still valid after a couple of years?

    Luckily, spending the night in the parking lot of Macy’s wasn't the only time I dressed up. I also mustered up some energy to go out in San Rafael to listen to Jazz earlier in the week. So, I wore my leather jacket that was starting to collect dust in my closet and a brown short dress that also hadn't seen the light of day for quite some time. Accompanied by my friend Gabrielle and her boyfriend, we heard some good tunes. And maybe it was the dress or the red lipstick, but I got asked out on a date. That’s next week. Hmmm, I wonder if he’ll turn out to be a Prince Charming?

Week 2

   When in doubt, just shuck it. Shuck it, just shuck it... Shuck it like a Polaroid picture! Shuck your ass, watch yourself! After shucking over 60 oysters out on Tomales Bay, I just can’t stop thinking about shucking! I just love to shuck. It’s too bad I didn't shuck oysters in a dress, that would have been awesome! But despite that, this was still a very successful week; I was able to bang out two dresses! But I give credit to my dear friend Alana from New Zealand. My Kiwi-soul sister, who I met in Fiji 6 months ago, came to visit me and I got to show her my hood! Her vacation here not only gave me an excuse to take a week off of work and just play, but her visit also gave me a plethora of dressing up excursions.

   But did I wear a cocktail dress at the Palace Hotel? Or did I whip out my bright blue dress to wear at Tiffany’s in Union Square ? Nope, I missed those golden opportunities! I even dressed down in leggings and a sweatshirt for champagne tasting at Gloria Ferrer in Sonoma! Silly me! Instead, I dressed up for prison.

  Dress #1 was my most recent purchase(back in 2013 of course), a grey and white striped dress. It seemed absolutely appropriate to wear stripes behind bars. And if you're going to dress up for jail, go big: Alcatraz ! I finally paid my first visit to Alcatraz in style and dressed up for all the ghosts hiding in the drafty, dark corners.

    I decided to just go for it with dress #2. So, I busted out my waaaay too tight, too short, grey,  Banana Republic dress for a night out on the town in SF. And I was literally ‘busting’ out. Yep, my girls were popping out of my dress a wee bit, oops. But hey, I had to finally get fancy and if the dress kinda fits, rock it!  I even bought some red lipstick and didn't wimp out and wipe it off! I danced slutty but drank classy with Manhattans.

 But more importantly then the fact that I wore 2 dresses this week, is that fact that I learned  a very, VERY valuable lesson, which I just have to share! I learned about the the art of 'eye fucking', pardon my French. Leave it to my Kiwi friend to teach me the ways of the world. You would think that by now, at the age of  30, I would have flirting with men dialed, right? Apparently I've totally missed the cardinal rule to flirting.

How to ‘Eye F*#k’
A) Hold your drink delicately in your hand and slowly stroke your beverage
B) After catching a strapping young lad’s attention with your strokin' action, make eye contact
C) Pretend you’re coy but give a smile while maintaining eye contact, even laugh a little, then look away

   Ok, so I totally got step A down, but well, as for steps B and C, I guess I need a lot more practice. I just started giggling, then snorting loudly. Yep, apparently snorting does not get you guys. It’s a good thing we didn't go to the Tipsy Pig, because I think I would have a new nick name. So, until I master this new skill, I think I’ll just stick to dancing and shaking my fanny to attract the opposite sex. Oh shoot, I mean ‘bum’! Apparently, in New Zealand, ‘fanny’ is a lady’s va-JJ! I don't think I want to shake that just yet to get a guy's attention.

That's it for this week: 2 down, 57 to go. Did I mention that I like to shuck?
I’m still kicking myself for not shucking oysters in a dress.

Week 1

   I have this fantasy of getting dolled up in one of my fanciest dresses and going out to an extremely swanky restaurant or bar in San Francisco. I’ll order a martini, sit at the bar and occasionally look around or at my watch with a mild, yet seductive look of disappointment on my face. The plan is that I’ll pretend I’m getting stood up by a blind date. So that way, a handsome Channing Tatum or Chris Hemsworth look-alike will have his chance to flirt with me. He’ll sweep me off my feet, rescuing me from my ‘date’ gone wrong. One martini will turn into three, and before I know it, he’ll be whisking me away and taking me home with him to have the most-amazing, O-face, earth-shattering, mind blowing, -insert even more ridiculous analogies here-experience of my life.

   I’ve thought that would be a brilliant idea for the last three years but have yet to attempt it. Who knows? There may not be movie star studs waiting to pleasure me as I walk into a random restaurant in San Francisco, but I’m all about positive thinking. I mean come on, I should at least try! I have the dress for it! In fact, I have 58 dresses for it, half of which I’ve never worn and the other half I've probably only worn a handful of times (most likely in the dressing room where that dress was purchased or at home in front of my mirror).

   This year, I’m going to wear every one of those dresses. That includes the one that looks like its from the 70s which is covered in crocheted off-white fringe and the turquoise polka dotted ruffled dress which would be perfect for line dancing at a Texas Hoedown. I even have to include my long, skin-tight black Bebe dress with a see-through midriff( I may need to work up to sporting that look).

   So this may not seem like too much of a challenge. Wearing 58 dresses in the course of a year only  averages wearing 1.1 dresses a week. Those city girls go out practically every night!  58 dresses is no big deal, right? Actually make that 59, I just found one crumpled up on the bottom of my closet. It’s a short, bright orange dress covered with hibiscuses which I purchased  years ago while stoned at the Sierra Nevada Brew festival. Note to self, don‘t get blazed and shop. Drink and shop, yes, that's a good idea. I've scored some fantastic dresses with a margarita in my tummy. But weed mixed with shopping, no. That was a bad purchase.

   My big predicament is that I hardly ever wear dresses! The last time I got dressed up was on Halloween when I went to my climbing gym for a costumed-themed headlamp climbing session. I drank one too many bottles of wine with one of my best girlfriends and made the intoxicated decision to dress up in a French maid outfit (and I’m definitely not going to even classify that getup as a dress). Three bottles of wine led to the poor outfit decision and drunken climbing( it’s cool, I was on belay!) The climbing didn’t last long that night which led to an even shorter excursion to a San Francisco pub. The end result was an absolutely wretched hangover the next day. That was not my mission.

    I work at an outdoor store. Let me repeat that, I work at an outdoor store.  I don’t think I’d look very credible selling backpacking stoves if I was wearing black pumps and a BCBG mini dress. I might get more dates, but I probably wouldn’t sell any stoves. Nope, I wear flannel, jeans, t-shirts, you know- the usual. That’s the other thing too: Dating!  I’m 30 and single, and I should be living it up! I should be going on dates, doing all that girlie crap and be out looking for Mr. Right-for-Me.  My current concept of 'going out' is usually me just escaping work for climbing trips with my pack of male climbing buddies.  I wear a bucket on my head during the day (safety third) and hobo gloves by the campfire at night. That’s not exactly wheeling in the guys. Next time, I’m for sure going to wear my Lululemon yoga pants and do some downward dog poses in the middle of the campground. But that’s beside the point. Owning 59 mostly unworn dresses means its time for me to live it up, dance a little slutty, and stop calling myself grandma because I’m in bed by 10 pm.

Ok so I guess I should make some rules for myself...

THE RULES:

1) I have to wear the dress out to some type of social excursion. That means I can't go to Safeway at 2 am to pick up Ben and Jerry’s ice cream wearing my Free People Pink sundress just so I can check my dress off the list for that week. That was my first thought of how I can get out of this crazy challenge I've created for myself. That would be cheating.

2) I have to wear every single one of the dresses this year, 2014. For the most part, all of these dresses in theory should fit me, but there may be a few ones just a tad tight. I have to wear those too, so perhaps I’ll save those for later in the year after a few crunches. I'm still enjoying my holiday chocolates for the time being.

3) I'll post once a week, updating my progress. My goal is to wear one dress a week, and if I miss a week that means two the next time(Wow, that sounds like I'll really be living on the edge: two dresses a week. Don't laugh I know its no big deal for most girls. But it's entirely a different story for me!).

3) I can't go to the same spot over and over, I've got to mix it up each time, a new place every week. That means a bar, a restaurant, salsa dancing, a hot date, whatever I can dream up!  I live 25 minutes from San Francisco and Berkeley, and I love to travel, this shouldn't be that hard, right? 

4)  Dancing around in my house to Jurassic 5, shopping, or eating out on my lunch break at work, does not qualify as a social excursion.

5) No more buying dresses! I have 59. Buying more of them defeats the purpose of this whole process, and would just make this challenge harder.  And I promised myself no more charging things on my credit cards. I already know I may break that promise so I can't fail on THIS challenge.


So I’m already off to a late start, the first week of January is almost over, meaning I need to shoot for two dresses this coming week!  Crap, maybe this is a bad idea. What am I getting myself into??