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Let me tell you a story. Two stories, actually. Which by the end of this post you will hopefully realize the interconnectedness of…and ensuing tragedy.

Story #1
Easter is this weekend. Now I’m not really the shopper in the family. I mean, I’m female, and I love to shop. But I’m also really cheap, so I usually don’t shop unless I really need something, or come across something I like that is available for no more than 70% of its original price (I know, that is the real tragedy). But every year around Easter I usually end up buying myself something new. Maybe it brings me back to childhood when a new season comes around and you’ve grown out of last year’s clothes (sadly, that’s still kind of true…stupid South Beach Diet). Maybe it’s spring and the way I’m itching to get out of turtleneck sweaters. More likely, it’s because Easter’s a pretty big event at Northway, and as excessively vain as it sounds, I usually get some kind of outfit or accessory. I have no explanation. And reading that back, it does sound excessively vain. It is what it is.

So this year I hadn’t thought much about it since I’m, as usual, trying to save money, but I walked into Marshalls last week chatting with Brian about how I wanted one of those suits with the cropped pants b/c they are so cute…and practical (no wait, they’re just cute). And alas, I looked up to find a glorious white Tahari suit with adorable cropped pants. It was ridiculously marked down to about 75% of its original cost. If you know Tahari you probably know that it was still outside of my usual price range (I buy most of my clothes on clearance at Target and JCPenney), but once in a while you have to be a little unreasonable, right? They had my size in the jacket which is pretty amazing in and of itself (the breadth of my shoulders is similar to that of a 12 year old boy, and in most jackets I look like a little girl wearing her mom’s clothes). Although cropped pants don’t usually agree with me, Brian assured me that it looked great and I took it all as a sign from God (and Marshalls) that it had been placed there just for me. How rude would it be of me to not buy it? Besides, if I decided it was ridiculous (or should I say, if I realized it was ridiculous) I could take it back.

I have spent an obscene amount of time in the last week trying to rationalize the purchase…thinking of places I could wear it, convincing myself that it’s a functional addition to my wardrobe, and arguing with friends about whether it’s appropriate to wear a white suit with cropped pants to a bridal shower (someone else’s bridal shower…so far I am losing this argument), since it is one of the very few events I have identified as those I may be able to wear this outfit too.

Story #2
At the dawn of the sixth season of American Idol I was pleased to see my people (my people = anyone brown, particularly those of Indian or Pakistani descent) represented at long last in young hopeful Sanjaya Malakar. Needless to say, my enthusiasm has since waned (and turned to disgust), but the running joke in my house of him being my cousin, and me lookig like him, are still going strong. So strong in fact, that a few weeks ago at a Volunteer Appreciation event at Northway, when Sanjaya came up (b/c we know he always does) Pastor Buddy pointed out to about 300 people that Brian would joke that I look like Sanjaya. Fortunately, a lot of people made a point to tell me they disagreed (maybe I should be nervous that everyone didn’t).

Last night, of course, part of the signature Sanjaya garb that will be rehashed by reality-TV loving America all week was his (hideous) white suit. Do you realize the implications? He has cast an even more negative spin on my already questionable new apparel. I was already only about 40% convinced that I could pull it off. If I wear it this weekend…for Easter services…in which I’ll be singing on stage, to the same people who heard the Sanjaya comment a few weeks ago…

Do I dare?