The tale of a dress.

(I apologize for the suck-butt photo,

but I lack low-light skillz)

There once was a dress from here.

It was the prettiest dress I had ever seen.

It was the most beautiful blue color.

And, much to my amazement, it was adorned with little ivory bicycles.

It exuded charm.

It pleaded to be my own.

I promised once it was discounted, we could strike a deal.

It would come to live at 'House of Grebe'.

It would have many adventures here.

Picnics, summer parties, dinners at the 'Boathouse'.

It was kismet.

A discounted dress, in what I thought was my size,

came to me all the way from the Tuscon, Arizona store.

The LAST two-wheeled dress the Saint Louis store could track down.

THE LAST ONE!

My knees buckled with joy the day it arrived.

I tried it on, and styled it up straight away.

Gasp!

What's this?

Too big?

Waaaaaay too big?!?!?!

This cannot be.

Nothing is ever too big on me.

But alas,

I had to bunch about 6 inches of waistline along the back with my belt.

It was awful.

Oh, the despair.

And, it had pockets.

Pockets have never betrayed me in such a way.

It had to go back.

For, I had no intentions of gaining weight to make our relationship work.

Return day was bleak.

I shed a silent tear of anguish as it passed over the counter,

and was thrown in a bin of unwantededs to be put back into inventory.

Afterwards, I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep.

Other dresses tried to come into my life,

but they just didn't measure up.

Bicycle dress left an unfillable hole in my heart.

A void.

And, so it goes.

The quest continues.

A quest, I fear, will be a lifelong search in vain.

I love you, Bicycle dress.

I will remember you always.