Why do I own this again?

Once upon a time I was at a comp sporting my blue-diaper-with-cheap-stones-bikini somewhere up above my waist (and despite its propensities for baring my ingeniously improvised lilac spanx, I do still love this scandalous and trashy ensemble). All of the sudden, Julia Gorchkova manifested at my side (!) and dazzled me with talk of long lanky legs and moving skirts and other tidbits of whimsy and delight. When you're standing in front of Julia Gorchkova, blinded the dazzling array of swarovskis behind her, you can't really say no, even if it does land you three thousand dollars in debt down the road. An investment, right? And hence the orange fringe dress was mine. I do love it. I also don't understand why I still own it.

Aside from my threat to wear it down the aisle should I ever tie the knot, do I have any reason to own something that even at a highly depreciated valuation could supply either a few months of comfortable lawschooling, a transient stab at "savings" or a really kick-ass trip in September? Short answer, no.

I don't foresee needing it again. I can't realistically claim to see a future in competing. I loved, nay adored, competing; but the reasons I stopped weren't simply about the cost prohibitive nature of the sport. There's the hair-pulling impossibility of finding a suitable partner. The ever-present fear of burning out on dance or banning the social/spiritual elements of dance as it increasingly turns competitive/athletic. And then there's that height thing - I prefer latin/rhythm and my stature strongly martials for a career in standard/smooth, if anything (I do still occasionally hear from very tall gentlemen all over the world via my long expired dancepartner.com account). And of course, there's just life. Given the costs involved, I have never seen the point in competing if it is not at a serious enough level that proper preparation inevitably takes over any semblance of life. It simply isn't a half-hearted endeavor to my senses, and I doubt I have the drive to put my whole heart into a single venture when so many alternatives abound.

Besides, if I ever need it again, I'd have to get it tailored. The dress was never a perfect fit to begin with, but I've lost two or three inches since I last competed. Add to this the oddly conical orange bosoms built into the costume - bosoms I desperately want to deflate - and any future use is going to cost me a fair bit first.

Y es, it's an impractical, not entirely flattering, sparkly traffic cone collecting dust in my closet. And yet, it's my fairy princess dress. Whenever I think of selling it, I try it on and the fringe unfurls. The sparkles dance on the wall. My heart sets afluttering... Complete cinderella complex. I blame you, Disney:



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