Color on My Wrist

When I think about ladies wrist watches, I think about the slim, little Timex bracelet watch my mom used to put on each morning before she went off to teach 7th grade English. When she retired, she put the watch away in her jewelry box and has never taken it out again, as far as I know.

I have to say that I loved that watch, because to me it signified a sort of grown-up, elegant lady-ness, the exact sort of thing a capable working woman like my Mom would wear in the 1970s. In reality, it was just another copy of a moderately-priced, decently-made American watch, a ubiquitous timepiece of the era.

When I got my first real job, I bought myself a watch just like it, and quickly realized that it didn’t suit me at all. My mom had thin arms and beautiful olive skin, which made the cheap gold of the Timex seem like a million dollars. I have thick wrists and a fair-freckled-pasty complexion (thanks Dad!), that makes cheap gold and thin wrist straps look ridiculous.

Worse, my mother was a careful woman who took good care of her possessions. I’m always either breaking things (ask me about how I’ve destroyed three cell phone screens in three years) or losing things in public places (like purses, coats, scarves, shoes, boyfriends). I can’t have an expensive watch because I’ll break it or lose it.

So, I need color on my wrist, from a reasonably priced watch with a bigger face. Hence, this men’s watch from Armani Exchange watches at H. Samuels

Armani Exchange Watch

Blue is a color that suits my skin-tone, and this watch has it in exactly the tone I require. And because the face is man-sized, it doesn’t make my man-sized wrists seem even bigger than they already are. Plus, I just like the way it looks. What more justification do I need for wearing a man’s watch than that I like it?

Multi-Stone Engagement Rings

Seven Stone Diamond Bubble Ring

Call me old-fashioned, but I can’t say I fully approve of the trend toward piling ever more (and ever smaller) diamonds onto engagement rings. When done wrong, the ring looks crowded and busy, not elegant and dramatic.

Consider, for example, the seven stone diamond bubble ring shown above (image taken from a ring available at Diamonds and Rings site). It’s too much for my taste. I much prefer one, giant, single solitaire diamond on the ring, rather than seven, smaller diamonds jammed together on a single band.

If forced, however, to pick a new engagement ring, I’d go for a three stone setting like this one…

Three Stone Princess Cut Ring

Three princess cut diamonds, arranged simply, in a straight line, is about the best it can get in a multi-stone engagement ring.

Of course, ideally, you’re at the mercy of your future husband. Ideally, he presents you with the ring you will wear for the rest of your life, having picked it out himself without consulting you, which is why you want to make sure your soon-to-be husband is a man of good taste and breeding.

And this is another reason why multistone rings are dangerous, because there’s so much room for errors taste. It much simpler to pick out a ring with a single diamond (albeit a big one), just because it’s so much easier to get it right the first (and what should be only) time.

Gold on Sterling Silver

18ct Gold on Solid Silver Cuff

Right now, at this moment, I’m all about the golden bangles, bracelets, and cuffs. In fact I’m totally digging something I think of as the “high-street gypsy look”, by which I mean, expensive flowy, layered skirts, peasant tops and lots of arm jewelry, all tied up with a saucy, take-no prisoners attitude.

Unfortunately, since I prefer real gold rather than the fake stuff, this means that I can’t afford everything I want, given that at the moment gold costs more than refined plutonium (approximately). If I were a real gypsy, or even better an opera stage gypsy, I’d get my hands on my gold baubles by hook or by crook, preferably by seducing a rich bullfighter, or a foolhardy count. But, those options aren’t exactly open to me, seeing as how I live in a) America, and b) the 21st century, both of which is short on bullfighters and counts.

One less expensive option that does work for me, however, is 18ct gold on sterling silver, like this hellaciously tasty cuff shown above (from the website of Pepper Pink).

This piece combines the shiny goodness of gold, with the heft of sterling silver, but significantly less costly than solid gold. Now that’s what I’m talking about. I have to say that although, eighteen carat gold on sterling silver is not cheap, neither is it a tacky bit of costume jewelry you picked up for nickles at the bargain shop.

So, if you’ll looking for a little gypsy flair, take a look at some gold on silver.

The Homecoming Dress

I’m one of those odd people who really enjoyed my fifteen-year high school reunion, in fact, it was much more enjoyable than my ten-year reunion. I sort of came into my own during those five years, going from a semi-miserable, semi-unemployed 28-year-old semi-loser, to a generally well-put-together 33-year-old career woman, one who was married to an objectively hunky guy with a respectable job.So, it’s amazing what a little success in life will do to your willingness to meet with people you only vaguely remember from homeroom English.

Plus Size Homecoming Dress

Image courtesy of DressFirst

At the ten year mark, my friend Jillian had to browbeat me into attending the dinner. She really, really wanted to go, because she had lost a ton weight since high school, like sixty pounds, and she wanted to show off to mean girls and backbiters who’d made her life miserable in 11th grade. So, I helped her pick out a homecoming dress, and I went to the reunion out of solidarity with Jillian, even though I wasn’t any thinner, and if anything probably less successful than I’d been a decade earlier. (At least in high school, I thought, I hadn’t failed to live up to my potential yet.) I ended up having more fun than I thought I would, but only because my friend Karl showed up flamboyantly gay, having come out of the closet sometime during his junior year of college. Without his catty remarks about fallen cheerleaders and beer-bellied former athletes, the evening would have been a loss.

Cut to five years later and I’m eagerly picking out a homecoming dress, thinking to myself that I HAD finally begun to live up to my potential, and that it was my turn to show off a little. And I had an unexpectedly great time. Karl was in rare form. Jillian was engaged to a good guy, and the fallen cheerleaders had metamorphed into moderately decent people, mellowed by age and the humbling effects of the wider world.

After Plumcake

But the party’s just starting at afterplumcake.com

See you there! –Miss Plumcake

Twistie’s Sunday Caption Madness: The Too Claus for Comfort Edition: The Result

Wow.

You know how to make things hard on a blogger, don’t you?

Last week, I whalloped you all with this deathless image:

… and you assaulted me right back with six deliciously deranged responses featuring leisure and fashion.

You hit me on my weakest possible sides with geek references galore. You made me cackle multiple times.

Frankly, this one made me waffle more than an IHoP. And while they may not be the ultimate winners, I would like to give special love to Jade Wombat for this delicious combo plate of sci-fi and kidlit:

The Santa robot aliens, after their defeat in London by Dr. Who, invaded America where they were confronted by Dr. Pooh.

… and to our own, our very, very own Gemdiva for this classic movie reference:

Now listen up, I’m hot, cranky and I hate undercover work, so make yourselves comfortable. We are NOT leaving this field until I find out which one of you usual suspects is Kaiser Soze.

In the end, though, there can be but one.

This time, and even though it’s kind of long to be a caption, it’s TeleriB for causing a huge mess on my monitor screen with this gloriously crazed response:

“And when I say ‘Sacks up!” I mean sacks up NOW! Not ‘in just a second,’ not when you feellike it! IS THAT CLEAR, SANTA JOHNSON?”

“Sergeant Bear, yes, Sergeant Bear!”

“Good! Now pick that sack UP and let’s get jolly! We will be adding five additional rooftop sprints this afternoon to help Santa Johnson remember his sack. Santas! Move out!”

Congratulations, Jade Wombat, Gemdiva, and most of all TeleriB! And thanks to everyone who played.

And just so you will know…

I don’t remember much about 2007, the year that Manolo for the Big Girl opened its virtual gates, so I certainly don’t recall what I wrote in my application to be one of two fearsome editrixes for The Manolo’s new plus-size project. I do remember my entry was late since a friend sent me the cattle call (as it were) week after the deadline passed. I also remember (spoiler alert) that I got it.

On my first entry I wrote:

The great thing about being the biggest gal in the room is that you can be the BIGGEST gal in the room: the fiercest, the most fabulous, the most confident. With a big attitude you can work looks that would overwhelm our slender sisters and make drag queens want to pull your hair from sheer glam envy.

Now as Manolo for the Big Girl, along with the rest of the Manolosphere, prepares to hang up our heels and close shop forever, I stand by that statement.

When I got the news on Friday, I was too jetlagged to say anything but “well, it was a good run.”

And it was, but it was also something else.

It was the chance to be the voice I wish I’d had when I was but a young fatling, trying to eke out an ounce of self-confidence, and a drop of glamor in an unfriendly world.

I thank you for that. I thank you for every comment (well, almost every comment) every email, every linkback and “you’ve gotta read this” message.

Most of all I thank you for the community. MftBG wasn’t a pretty blog, it didn’t fit nicely into any one category. I was never interested in being part of some fat blog clique or kowtowing to advertisers, but you stuck with me, with one of the smartest, funniest comments sections I’ve had the pleasure to read.

So what to do now?

Well, I don’t know about the rest of the gang, but I’m going to keep working on my book, enjoying life in Mexico and because old habits die hard, writing at my new blog, After Plumcake.

It won’t be the same as the big girl blog, there comes a time when even I have run out of things to say about pretty shoes and being fat, but it will have some of the same flavor, plus a broader range of topics, possibly shirtless footballers and if the past two days are any indication, way more f-bombs.

I hope you’ll join me there.

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