Upon getting up from my desk at Job #1 yesterday (approximately 12:00), I noticed that my thigh high stockings were slipping. By the time I got to Job #2 (about 1:00), no matter what I did, they just fell right down about my knees. I then spent the next 4 hours trying not to move from my desk. By the time I got home (about 5:15), I gave up. There was yelling, ripping off of stockings, and you might as well throw in gnashing of teeth for good measure.
I'm upset for two reasons. First, they were my last pair (that I was willing to wear outside). Second, now I have to venture out into the cruel world of brown girl stocking shopping. Because I'm kind of a strange brown, I am incredibly picky about my shade of stockings. Too light = ridiculous, too dark = obvious. And so I spend an inordinate amount of time mulling over things like "hint of color," "sandy beige" and the ever changing "nude." One can assume it's not my shade of nude, it never is. I once got really excited about a pair from Target, and actually fooled myself into thinking "my goodness they've done it, they've created the perfect color for everyone!" Too much money and a disappointing Sunday later, they are now shoved in the back of the drawer, never to see the light of day again. The only reason I'm happy about this new development? I've lost weight. But that brings its own set of issues, because it puts me in that in-between size for almost every brand imaginable. Some size charts don't even have my height/weight combination on there. At least I know that if I get this brand of thigh high again to get a smaller size, but I think until I even out a bit on the scale, I'll stick to pantyhose.
Now you know entirely too much about me and stockings. On to cupcakes.
This evening I am attending the bridal shower of a friend I've known almost my entire life. I volunteered to make cupcakes, some chocolate and some vanilla. After getting home from work and tearing off my rogue stockings, I made a list, went to the store, returned and started on the chocolate cupcakes. I chose a recipe that I thought sounded really good. Basic enough, but there were promises of yummy, fluffy deliciousness.
They failed. Not only did they fail, but I failed to remember that I had tried this particular recipe once before, and they failed that time too. I've never seen anything like it (with the exception of the last time I did this). They went from fluffy to flat to indented to imploded to oily brick in a matter of minutes. 1 box of chocolate cake mix and about 20 cupcake liners gone. Back to the store. Another chocolate cake mix and a bag of chocolate chips and I had everything I needed to make double fudge cupcakes. Except liners.
At this point I must have looked like a madwoman. My hair was tied back with an industrial twist tie, I'd already been out twice with bare legs in rainy January weather, I had one rain boot on and one off upon discovering that I didn't have enough liners (I had 5), and I was standing in the kitchen being all stressed out and gesturing wildly. Enter my father, who, though he looks confused at the scene that he just walked in on, kindly offered to drive me back to the store. Liners purchased, cupcakes made, all is well. They will be drizzed with chocolate ganache later.
The vanilla came out great. I'll be topping them with homemade buttercream frosting (dyed purple) today, right before the shower.
I'm a little cupcake-ed out.
This outfit is dedicated to my Mima (maternal grandmother).
