Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

After years of believing that putting an effort into my appearance should be reserved for special occasions, I’ve been experimenting with a little bit of fashion. Mrs. S. has secretly been my idol in that department, and thankfully passed her influence down to Jessica; the result being that both of them always look good regardless of what they’re doing. I’ve come to realize that matching clothes, clothes that fit, a little bit of make up and a few minutes with the flat iron makes a big difference. Not that catching the attention of the male species if my main intent, but I’ve found that gussying up a little goes a long way for my mood, attitude and even gets me a few hits from the men. (Unfortunately they all seem to be younger, but hey, I’ll take it where I can get it.)

So with party obligations last weekend I decided to try one of my new looks out on friends and family. Nothing over the top. I wore my bargain jeans that actually fit, put on make-up and donned a new shirt that is multiple colors of purple, in a tye-died fashion, with rhinestones outlining a large butterfly across my bosom. I’ve admired the look on others for a while, but finally decided it was time to give it a shot myself. I was very happy with the results. At the end of the day we ended up gathered at Mrs. S’s house for some much needed girl time. Mrs. G, Mrs. S and myself sat on the patio and solved the world’s problems over a couple of drinks. As the night wore on I became concerned because occasionally I caught flashes of light out of the corner of my eyes. I couldn’t see anything that would cause it, so I went back to the conversation. It happened several more times, and it wasn’t long before my overactive imagination kicked in. I remembered reading somewhere, or maybe it was on television, that bursts of light within your eyes was a sign of something bad; a stroke, an aneurism, I couldn’t remember for sure which, but as the night went on the severity of my ailment grew bigger and bigger, until I was nearly convinced I was going to drop dead from eyeball flashing right then and there. I remained calm and didn’t convey my fears to the others, not wanting to ruin our evening of fun. Besides, they would figure out something was wrong when I dropped to the ground and my eyeballs popped out. We went inside to watch a movie and the flashing immediately became worse. This was it, I knew my brain was going to explode. As I silently waited for my demise, the children came upstairs in search of popcorn, and Little A came to give me a hug. “I like your shirt Tabba,” she said. “It sparkles a lot.”

I looked down and remembered the sparkles on my shirt. Sure enough, every time I moved and the light hit the rhinestones, the flashes reflected in my eyes, causing the bursts of light I’d been agonizing over all evening. Hmm. Imagine that. I wasn’t dying. It wasn’t an aneurism, it was just my shirt…


September 30, 2010 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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