One of my new year’s resolutions is to get better at cooking. I am far too old to be this inept at the elusive concept of “feeding myself.” If it requires more than three ingredients and 20 minutes, I simply don’t see the point. So I’d like to change. Perhaps you, too, lack this particular domestic skill. Perhaps you’ve attempted to learn how through practice and nearly burned down your home in the process. I’d love to hear all about that. This week, we want to hear about the most disastrous meal you’ve ever made. As always, you may chose to interpret “disastrous” however you see fit.
But before all that nonsense, let’s take a look at last week’s winners. The topic was “the worst clothing item you own,” and I’m thrilled to report that your wardrobes are just as dumb as mine!
Kim Jong’s Angst, this story is my Uncut Gems:
I used to work in a mall, and a stored moved in across the hall from the store I worked at that had this gorgeous sweater that I coveted. It was an angora sweater with a hood, wood buttons at the shoulder, and the softest thing I’ve ever touched. I stalked that sweater, perusing through stores on my lunch breaks and always stopping by to fondle the angora sweater, but it was well out of my price range. I had resigned myself to the idea that I would never own it.
A few months later, the store closed and had a going out of business sale. The sweater, THE sweater, was 75% off. There was one left in my size, so I snatched it up, elated that it was finally mine. When I got home and tried it on, I hated it. The fit was so terrible and showed every lump and bump on my relatively flat stomach. it was actually pretty shocking how something so pretty folded on a table could look so unflattering on a human body. I would occasionally pick it up in my closet, put it on, and look in the mirror and immediately take it off. I don’t think I ever wore it out of the house, and I couldn’t return it because it was on clearance. I accidentally put it in the wash, shrunk it to doll size, and threw it away.
awkwardturtle, just wait two years, this shit is coming back. Ugh:
I was 13 years old in 2001 so you tell me which of those trendy fashions was the worst:
– Skirt over pants
– Rocket dog sandals
– Chopsticks in the hair and other offensive cultural outfits that were trendy
There are so many more. It was a very dark time.
Cheers Pink Ears!, I had to adjust while reading this:
A sports bra. It’s a “ban the bounce” design, and it works, so it’s good in that sense, but putting it on? It’s a racer back, but also has a band with hook and eye closures. So you have to put it over your head first, without tangling the straps, then smoosh everything in, then hook it closed behind you. I’m not good at hooking bras in the back to start with, and then taking it off afterwards, I always get that panicked, I’m going to die with this bra stuck half way off!!!!
CorporalTrim’snewaccountbecausethecomputerbroke, I must see your closet:
I am fifty-four years old and have always been game to try oddball clothing. I came of age in the eighties. My bad clothes have been the stuff of legend. I went to one wedding in the eighties in a forties-inspired black and white dress cut down to the bottom of my sternum, white satin gloves to my elbow, and a black pillbox hat with an eye veil. I went to another in a dress that made me look like a bumblebee. When I met my husband, I had an outfit so bad (olive green harem pants and a burnt orange sweater) that whenever I wore it, he did laundry so that I wouldn’t have to wear it again. I might still have the dog collar I wore thirty-odd years ago. I have taught a university class in eighteenth-century fiction wearing leather pants.
My worst piece of clothing is a pair of polyester-blend black dress pants from when I had an office job. I can’t get rid of them because they feel “appropriate” in case I ever need to be appropriate, even though they suck the life out of me and all of my surroundings and make me feel like I’m eighty and haven’t had sex in a decade.
Drop those disaster stories below. I live for them.
Source : Maria Sherman Link