Tabatha Deans

IT’S NOT AN ANEURISM, IT’S JUST MY SHIRT
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 Tabatha Stewart | Uncategorized