Me Pluss Intimate Apparel

No, not my intimate apparel, but Lynn Nottage's. The acclaimed playwright's Esther explores love in New York the early 1900's, and finds it in the unlikeliest of places.

Spinster Esther sews lingerie for the masses and she is tired of making intimate apparel for all the girls who pass in and out of her boarding house, leaving her behind and moving on to marriages and families.  All she has in this world are her clients and friends, her sewing machine and two dreams: to find her a husband and to open her own beauty parlor for black women

When she receives an amorous letter from George in Panama working on the canals and seeking her attentions, she fantasizes about how her dreams might be able to come true.  Being insecure and  illiterate, she relies on her wealthy client Ms. Van Buren and a prostitute Mayme, to read and write her letters to and from George.

 

George finally comes to New York and weds Esther, only she is no longer sure where her heart lies.  Is it with her new husband George who she can't seem to connect with or is it with the Jewish mercer Mr. Marks who always saves the best most exotic fabrics for 'beautiful Esther' even though she can't afford them?

Esther navigates love, inter-racial relationships and unbearable heartbreak in a pre-civil rights world and emerges a more confident and experienced woman.  This drama is impeccably performed. Newcomer Jessie Hughes , who plays Esther, is strong and solemn and emotes every feeling down through the threads of her impeccably tailored wardrobe.  Its like feeling your own angst filled love story unfurl on stage. This isn't one to be missed.  The intimate seating on the stage gives a window into the lives of these few who are struggling through their lives just doing the best they can with their lot and the opportunities they've been afforded.

 

Intimate Apparel shows that the heart wants what the heart wants no matter the century. A solid and realistic play to see this Valentine's weekend, it'll give you something to think about.  This play is being put on by the Georgia Perimeter College Theatre Arts Guild and runs through the 16th. Intimate Apparel is free with GPCID and $5 with any other student ID, $15 to the general public.  

Tonight Friday February 14th @ 8:00pm

Tomorrow Saturday 15th @ 8:00pm

Sunday 16th @3:00pm

This lovely and moving play is set on the Cole Auditorium stage in intimate "black box" style.

Fine Arts Building,555 N. Indian Creek Dr, Clarkston, GA, 30021

 Seating is limited, so email or call to reserve your tickets ASAP.  No late seating. gpctagtx@gpc.edu

About Last Night is sold out everywhere this weekend, you can see it next week, this play will be gone by Sunday.  Do something original this weekend and support the arts.  I promise you will not be disappointed.

Me Pluss the Neon Pants

"How many neon pants is it ok to have?"

"NONE!" says Birdie as she stares at me sternly.  She ain't even playing this time.
"Zero pairs," with her hands on her hips. "How many do you have?" she asks, her stance indignant.

"3" I say like a scolded child, eyes downcast.

"Why do you have neon in your wardrobe? A whole pair of pants? Oh lawd, help the child..."she mumbles as she goes back to her corner, shaking her head and sighing.  For the next ten minutes or so, Birdie is in the corner mumbling to herself and shaking her head intermittently.  Without warning she turns to me and asks, "Why?", with this incredulous look on her face.

Why indeed.  Because I like neon, it gives me life.  Do you know why girls like pink? Its because its girly.  Do you know why I like pink? Hot pink, fuschia, neon pink, not just pink, its because its caustic.  Its not a natural color, its bold, its fierce, its in your face.  You can't look at it straight on, but when you try to look away but you can't.

I have three pairs because once you get over that hump and buy and wear the pink, then you want the orange and then there is the grandmother of all neon.  The original neon, the lime green.

Neon just works. Romanticize it, or play it casually, it takes simple to a whole other level. 

I went to see a play one Sunday afternoon, and one of the very fashionable older dames saw my pink neon pants and exclaimed "Oh my Gosh! Look at your pants! I love them! Their so festive! Do they glow in the dark?" 

See, why couldn't Birdie get this excited about neon? Because fashion is subjective and my long time love for neon and leopard is Birdie's equally aggravating eyesore.  

Do my pants glow in the dark? I'm not sure lady but I hope they do.  I really hope they do.

Pants/Riding Boots/Headband: Forever 21+
Tops: Oldnavy (Soldout)
Leopard Booties/Fashion Jewelry: Its Fashion Metro
Blazer: Target
Everything was on Clearance!

Me Pluss Mondays

That smile isn't really a smile, its an attempt to not look like an ungrateful sour puss.  I'm not about it today...'cause its Monday, and Mondays Suck.

Its Monday and a school day, that means I had to get up early and go out in this cold, and stare into my grumpy math professor's face for an hour... before he's had his coffee ...and listen to him tell me how much of an idiot I am for using a calculator to do math.  You can reread that all you want to, that's exactly what I meant to say.

I originally saw this sweatshirt on one of my favorite bloggers Musings of a Curvy Girl and I had to have it...not to wear it with frou frou heels and pop-of-color skirt like she did, but to dumb it down and rock it as nature intended, sleepy, hungover and just rolled out of bed. I needed my professor to know just by looking at me that I hoped his day was gonna be as shitty as mine.

My saving grace today? My pink and green paint splattered backpack with silver shoulder straps, a little bit of odd emo girliness in my dark winterized world.  When's the last time you saw a woman of a certain age rocking a back pack?  Not a gym bag with a pull-close top, but a true to form too many pockets, text book holding back pack? Yup... I thought so...not lately.

 

The first five days after the weekend are always the worst but Mondays hold the least promise, even after coffee. Mondays suck. They just do. Any questions?

Sweatshirt: Deb Shops, Jeans: Old Navy, Back Pack: Forever 21 Sold out, Long Line Cami: F21+

Boots/Hat/Glasses: they are mine, they're old and if you really care that much about where they came from, email me.

Me Pluss Hot Chocolate

Chocolate made me do it!  And if you had tasted this hot chocolate you would have done it too.

I had a clique to run with...once upon a time...but I think when their alarm went of at 5:30 that morning, they opened one eye, checked the temperature and simultaneously shot off a text..."cold as a witch's tit...I'm sick...cough...catch u nxt yr."

And so I was left to go it alone.  Hence the face. It was too cold and too early but I paid too much money to balk. I stumbled out the door haunted by visions of heated blankets and fuzzy socks...I thought about turning around...I thought about it a lot.

Music pumping, DJ clowning, chocolatiers jammed in on top of each other on Hank Aaron Drive taking selfies, and we were off into the heart of Hotlanta on a sunny, freezing Sunday morning.  For the first full mile you could only trot until the crowd thinned out, then hills, hills and more hills! Thank you sir and may I have another?


Me? Trot? Maybe that's what I though I was doing...but the ache in my back, my butt, my calves and the shock in my heart were very contradicting.  I far from trained for this, but I really thought I was maintaining my fitness by eeking out at least 5 miles a week on the treadmill.  No ma'am, not at all! Having not street raced since the PRR last July, my body quickly informed me of how truly and miserably out of shape I really was...I was looking for the medical tent at mile 1 and seeing spots by mile 2. 

By the time I rounded Fulton Street back onto Capitol Avenue, I caught my second wind, probably because I could see finishers with their cups of chocolate.  I couldn't let them run out or else my pain would have been for nothing...had to...get to...chocolate...

I sped up and started passing people left and right, I started seeing the camera men.  There is nothing worse than a painful run shot. We can't have that, I need you to see me smiling and running effortlessly, I have to look like I'm having a great time.  Then I saw it ahead, the finish line, the clock, and that annoyingly fit guy who singles out the bigger girls with a condescending shout, a high five and a "you can do it! keep running!" If I could have gotten my foot off the ground I would have kicked him.

I did it!  Chocolate time! Where is the tent? I cant see! Please! Please point me to the tent! Chewy...Warm...Gooey...Chocolate!

 
 I joined the crowds of irresponsible 5Kers gouging themselves on chocolate and candy while convincing themselves that they earned it after their 'brisk walk'. We were wobbling, wopping and electric sliding ourselves into a chocolate coma at the after party.

My take away from my Hot Chocolate 15K/5K experience:
-Tall men should wear tall pants, I saw entirely too many unintentional ankles for my liking
-Please dress for the weather, you look ridiculous shivering in a shorts and an undershirt
-You should spit away from the crowd...funny how its not as obvious as you would think
-Chocolate is a serious motivational factor, albeit counterintuitive
-Chocolate after running makes people loopy and possibly illiterate (evidence below)

The swag! I can't forget the swag, the goodie bag that made me sign up to run in the street for the promise of chocolate all those months ago....

Was it worth it? Heck yeah! Paying to run in the street is my thing, reality check and all.  The technical sweatshirt with thumb holes and waist pocket for my mp3 player is like a badge of honor, you runners know what I mean.  Orange and brown last year, purple and black this year, who knows? Next year they might actually make the ladies sweatshirts in pink and I will do it again, all for the incredibly inexplicable love....of chocolate.

Me Pluss the Crop Top

I just had to try it...just once, just to say I did.

I was wary of showing skin.  I picked up this blouse, I put it back down, I left the store, I sat in the car, I lingered at the door.  I just didn't know...

Then I went back into Rainbow and tried it on. The long sleeves were promising but I could see a sliver of skin...

"That's the point", I kept telling myself.  And it is the point, to show a little skin.

Crop Tops have been all the rage in the plus size blogging ranks. So I got up my courage and got me a high waisted pant from Asos Curve to go with it.

 What made me pull the trigger on it was the cashier.  This plus size lady realized my hesitation and just had to say something.
"What's the problem, it a cute top" she said,
"I know, its just that I know my tummy will show and I'm buying it on purpose" I replied.
"You wanna switch stomachs? Cause I have no problem taking yours for a spin at Magic City"

And that sealed the deal, cause the simple fact was, I didn't want to switch stomachs with her.  I don't have a wash board but it wasn't an 'apron' as she described hers.  It made me think that certain fashions aren't for everybody or every body type.  And if I could pull one off, it might encourage somebody else to be a little more daring with their own Pluss Fashion.

But these shoes though?  I needed no convincing.  These high voltage kicks had my name on them, the only question I was asking was "what other colors you got?"

Me and the crop top will be acquaintances, we probably wont ever be besties or even be tight like that, she is too young for me.  I leave her to the 18 year olds, the fashionably bold and the gym rats with the six pack like nature intended. But I just had to try it...At least once...