Pretty in Peach

When I found out that the ward was having a spring formal, I immediately thought that the solution was to buy the most hideous dress I could find. After all, I've done the whole Prom/Homecoming thing, and I didn't care to do it all over again. High school was great, but once was enough.

One Saturday, the roomies and I headed to Deseret Industries and I found it: a "gargeous arange farmal from the carner of narth-west Arem." It was pleated, it had billowy sleeves, shoulder pads, and it was peach. My least favorite color. It was perfect.

I showed my dress to my date prior to dance, just so he could be prepared. He took it surprisingly well. Kudos to him for being a great sort of person like that. He even decided that he would play along and found a tweed suit jacket with suede elbow pads. Needless to say, we were to most stunning couple at the dance.

That is until I realized three-quarters of the way through the night that you could still see through the skirt of my dress despite the fact that I was wearing white tights and two different slips.

I'm still pretending that I had no idea.