the librarian goes scandalous.

A couple months ago, a friend of mine, Elizabeth, asked if I would be willing to give her my dimensions for a fly-fishing outfit -- since I'm a fly-fisherwoman and all (novice though I may be).  She needed to make the outfit for her senior project, and so I agreed to help.  So, over the course of the semester I stopped by her house to stand there awkwardly while she took measurements of regions I didn't know existed. Soon enough - her beautiful outfit came together.  At one point, she asked me if I would be willing to wear the outfit on the runway for her spring-senior fashion show. I agreed.

I already found it humorous that anyone would ask me - a whopping 5 feet and 3 (and a half) inches tall, weighing in at a good 3 twinkies over what I should - to walk on a runway, but I obliged.  So, this week I happily attended the first "fitting" for the show.

I was the shortest "model" there.

Definitely had eaten the most twinkies out of any of them.

AND I felt like a garden gnome. In a valley. Between very tall mountains.

But, I was okay.  While most of the models strutted around half-naked in between the multiple outfits they were asked to wear, I sneaked into a yarn closet to change into the fly fishing gear.  I wasn't upset that I was the only model in the room without visible collar bones, and I was honestly kind of grateful for it --- I mean I didn't have to worry about being asked to model anyone's outfits. I mean I'd get to leave early.

And then it happened. 

A girl came up to me and asked me if I was a model.  I think my reply was something along the lines of, "mrrrrrnooooooshyessssskindofffbutnotreally."  She asked me if I would try on a dress she had designed.  I couldn't say no.. I mean, leave early or not leave early: I was flattered, and I was interested to know what type of dress she would need me for.  I was curious. Maybe something for a plus-sized model.

But I was Wrong: it's a pleather, "rocker", halter top, skin tight cocktail dress.  I went into the closet (of course) to try it on, and I was quite positive that it wasn't going to fit over my junk, and I was right.  My chest looked like 5 pounds of sugar stuffed into a one pound sack.  After vocalizing the issue, another modest model who was in the closet with me piped in, "maybe you should take your bra off."  Wait. What? Surely not. Oh no. We wear bras with cardigans. We wear bras in public. It's only right, right? If you're thinking, "yes," then I appreciate your conservative values.  However, those conservative values are now in the trash - because I unhooked the damn thing, watched the cups of my conservativeness fall to floor and zipped up the dress.

Now I'm no prude--- I've worn my fair share of risque things. Granted, that was in high school. But, as time has gone by, I guess you could say that I've made progress that's opposite to what's normal for a college student: I've gotten conservative (in terms of clothing at least).  I do not wear heels (unless they're an inch high and closed toe), I wear cardigans with everything, and I've received comments ranging anywhere from "you look like a Sunday school teacher," to "I've never seen you without 4 layers of clothing on," to "college librarians wear less."  There are exceptions, but for the most part: I keep my "goodies" covered. I leave a lot of room for the imagination.

Anywho, I walked out of the closet in the dress.  The designer loved it, and the professor approved.  There was talk of me wearing a blue wig, carrying a guitar, and black knee-high high heeled boots with smoky eye-shadow.  I couldn't help but laugh to myself---- the day before my roommate had asked if I had a Cosmo to borrow, and then conceded she'd have more luck asking Chewy for one ---- and now these people were talking about me wearing sex-appeal. 

I guess we can chalk this experience down as that liberal transition thing every college girl undergos before she graduates.  Granted, I always that those experiences included tongue piercings or tattoos or other things I do not wish to say aloud (or type), but whatever. This counts.

So now, this Saturday, I will be walking the runway twice: once in fly-fishing gear and Chacos, the next in a black pleather glove with 4 inch heels. See you there.

The before:

Elizabeth McKnight's wonderfully comfortable fly fishing gear (don't you love the pastels?!) Thanks to Catherine for taking this!

Rebecca's lovely dress. (Thanks to Catherine for taking this)