I was thinking about going dancing this evening. Vintage dancing, the classy kind, where the guys softly lead from their fingers touching my shoulder-blade, and we kick and slide to bygone tunes.
I packed my vintage-style dance shoes in the front seat this morning, in case I didn’t have time to go home.
I was going to wear giraffe-print tights, black like my shirt, but decided last-minute to go with fishnets. I have Paris both on my brain and printed across my lilac-colored scarf (with mini Eiffel towers. A gift from my mother. “Here,” she said, “I didn’t think you had anything purple…”), and the fishnets tied these dreams with my Friday night half-plans, so fishnets it was.
I thought nothing of it.
Around 10 a.m. my boss invited the staff to lunch. I said I was free. I thought nothing of it.
Around 12:30 everyone else was busy, so it became just my boss (A. PRIEST.) and I to lunch.
And I thought nothing of it.
The exact moment I thought something of it is when I caught a glimpse of us two walking into the off-the-beaten path restaurant in Southwest Detroit (the authentic food tho! Is amazing!). Him in a Roman collar. Me in purple hair. And fishnets. Fill in the blanks.
God help me I think I blushed for the next 2 hours.
So probably everyone thought I was a wayward woman being drawn to the light of Christ’s goodness.
But really I’m just a church-lady wearing vintage-wear to work and making lifestyle mistakes.