For those of you deprived souls, who did not have a normal Albanian childhood (full of Tirana, Albania, Labour Party parades, choirs, math club, and Scanderbeg pics), the New Year’s Eve is the greatest tradition we have, where we do everything, tree and tinsel, gifts, cards, songs by the wood stove, dinner with parents until midnight, fireworks at midnigh, party with friends after midnight, sh.tfaced by dawn, up and visiting each-other as fast as we can on New Year’s morning.
I say this, so that you understand what happens to me when New Year draws near: I have nothing to wear!!!!!
After one month of trying to organize my family and friends into the semblance of a New Year’s party, yelling and getting yelled at by dad mom, sister, boyfriend of sister, close friend, cousin, boss and squirrels, I finally got results:
New Year’s Party at Maria Pia*, Italian restaurant in Manhattan, but managed by Albanian Friends. The menu is great, the price reasonable, and my mom is nearby in case of fire.
Then, I take the dreaded step: Checking my closet for the Cinderella night. Unfortunately, these people are close people so they have seen me in all these dresses, slacks and corsets (yes, I like corsets). Furthermore, due to unforseen difficulties at work (discovery of a new dunkin donuts) I do not fit into any of them.
What is a girl to do? I did not get a single gift card this year so no shopping. I could wear my boob dress. I do not think anybody remembers what it looks like, except that it is black and my boobs look like melons in it.
The only place I wore it was this Alb Independence Coctail party. I thought all ladies would be splendid in boob dresses. Boy, I have never been more wrong in my life. I do not think people heard anything I said that night. But, I am glad to say, some old men got another reason to live.
This is when it hits me, when you are big, you can either dress slutty or look like a sofa. There are no clothes for me, that can display instead of hiding away, complement instead of screaming “fat!”, make me confident, instead of overprotective of my boobs. Trust me, if you have gone through 10 dresses in the fitting room that are one size too big and still make you overflow, you will not be in a good mood either.
So boob dress it is then. I will jsut have say it out loud ” I got Boobs and I’m proud!”
* Note: As a rule, all waiters and managers of Italian restaurants in Manhattan, especially when called Tony, Luigi or Gianni, are Albanian.