Wednesday, March 16, 2011

A Problem Bigger Than My Arse.

I have written and re written this post as many times as I have changed outfit plans for the upcoming Bloggers Conference.....
To be perfectly honest.. I agreed to go..... Got myself this button...........
  Then filed it under "Months away" and got on with it

( I went with the meet me option as I have an over inflated sense of self Importance)
It's no secret.

Being the eternal procrastinator I am.... I have recently got around to checking it out... yeah..... it's this weekend people.
A few posts have popped up of late regarding this conference, and amid my getting on with it, it seems it is a far bigger deal than I had anticipated.
I read a lot on what to wear... I also read a lot on cellulite, Nana arms, dress size.. all of these words and many more were thrown around in half jest..... Possibly as a precursor to to the inevitable face to the words.... potentially preparing those we are to meet?..... possibly preparing ourselves for the judgment?
I could be wrong... I am annoying like that.
This was true in my case anyway.

We as bloggers often only exist in virtual reality, we divulge our lives one post at a time, almost always in full control of what we choose to hit publish on.
We blog honestly and a lot of the time anonymously... and
no one gives a shit what dress size we are.

This Conference.. a mash of word wit, described as a meeting of Australia's most influential bloggers, thrown around with mention of media and alike, has quite frankly, got me packing my frilly daks.

Ummmm......Do They know I'm going?

It has been written that we as bloggers, have proven our worth as writers, we are intelligent, witty, funny and articulate... we have things to say and sometimes, people want to read it. 
Why now does it feel a little bit like it is time to prove our worth in the flesh stakes?
Why does It feels a little like a blind date?
Nervous energy.. excitement..  Oh My! What to wear?

Narrowing down my wardrobe list.. I consulted a few of the fashion bibles,..... and as I intend on getting a spray tan... feeling a little sexy......,
 Chances are Mr Emma's Brain will be getting some over the course of this week, I chucked in a Cosmo. The Game is...
 I leave it laying around and eventually he notices,..... the penny drops, and starts following me around like Pepe Le Pew.
 In Almost 10 Years Of Marriage Land , this is considered foreplay.


Can you see what he hearts?



I am Oohing and Ahhing at the glossy pages... and I came across this campaign
                                                        I then re wrote my post .....again.

It may surprise you to learn that I am the kinda gal that will drive for 50 minutes and pay 26 bucks and hour for parking... all for the right shade of spray tan, should the occasion call for it.
I suppose this makes me a little bit of a wank...  I find myself defending this to my friends and loved ones....
Do you know what an appropriate justification is for such a round trip?
" It hides my cellulite and makes my tuck shop lady arms and saggy boobs appear taught and terrific"

This is commonly accepted, as a decent excuse for being a fake tan wanker.

What I should be saying is... " This particular shade makes look a little less like undiluted orange cordial, and I like the way I feel after I  get a spray tan... I deserve to feel like a rock star every now and again"

It sucks that hiding my cellulite is, more commonly, a better received excuse.

As far as frocking up for this shindig?
It has so far been a toss up between
 The Vintage Cooper Street number... pink and black with a fifties flair..... Or something else.. I promise I will be fully clothed. 
Whatever it ends up being....I will be sporting it over a fabulous feel good spray tan with pride... warts and all, in the hopes that one day, my beautiful daughter may walk into a party.. and not even notice that her arse is smaller or bigger than the arse of the others in the room.

What a gift that would be.

I am off to get excited... and nervous ... mostly about looking like a star struck stalker, this weekend at the big event.
Look for me... I  look a little bit like this.....

 (Trying my best to remember there are bigger problems than my arse)
Emmaxx

7 comments:

Glowless @ Where's My Glow said...

I've decided to tell everyone I'm bandy legged and buck toothed that way when they meet me I'll look way better than they were expecting.
In all seriousness though, this was a really good post.

Glen said...

you are not wrong - who'll notice your bum with a nose that big?

joking joking joking ( oh please don't have some nose complex)....

relax and have fun at your shindig - I'm quite jealous - makes me wish I was Australian, and a Mum, or even a woman so that I could go? though I suspect I wouldn't want to be there for the same reasons if I was?

I've just reread this comment and there is a small, barely likely, chance that I may sound a little bit of an insulting pervy letch.

I'm not - honest!

I do have a fat arse.

If that helps.

myrelish said...

It is almost time to stop hiding behind a screen and meet people... commence freaking out... again!
Like you, I feel heaps better (healthier, thinner, toned) with a tan too but no time for a spray tan for me, I do hope/plan to frock up and not have spiky or hairy legs, it is a start right.
As for fat talk, why are we so hard on ourselves?

Good Golly Miss Holly! said...

You're a babeeeeee! See you on Saturday ;)

Mrs Woog said...

Hey! Hottie with a brain. My fave type of chick. I will see you Sat with a matching tandoori tan xx

Dorothy said...

All this talk of fake tanning, deforesting, dress buying makes me realise how insecure most of us are. We sit here behind our screens letting it all hang out, but when it comes to actually talking face to face all we can think about is the size of our arses and number of chins.

Does that really matter? We have shown each other how beautiful we are, let's not start hiding now behind fake tans and perfectly plucked eyebrows....

MaidInAustralia said...

I have a fat arse and look like I'm pregnant. (I'm not). I have no idea what I'm wearing, and I haven't printed out any of the tickets I'm supposed to print out. I don't even know where I filed them in my emails. Hopefully I'll get there in one piece!