high-bar baking

The twenties were not a flattering time. I realize that I’m old enough now (eek) that I have to specify the nineteen twenties. Look, just because back then nobody had seen a female figure in public before doesn’t mean nobody has now. Drop waists are a nope. 

Yes, I could have done better on the Amazon purchasing of dresses. Silly rabbit, made the mistake of thinking that because the model looked hot in the dress, I would look hot in the dress. I looked like a matron. 

And finger waves are hard, good lord! This is not Downton, I don’t have my own maidservants, and I did not nail the execution on that one. I ended up with a bob that was time-ish accurate. Aaaaand… matronly. 

I went to a 20s themed party, if that was not abundantly apparent. This is not my idea of spontaneously enjoyable Saturday night loungewear. But hey, I went to a party! Look at me, being social. 

Yes, I am aware that other people don’t have to congratulate themselves on doing a normal social thing. That’s all well and good for you guys. I’m sure there are things you’re bad at, too. This is one of mine. 

And it was fun! I stayed out late, got home safe, and all the cookies (Brown Butter CCCs) were eaten after no time at all. Did I feel bad that some kickballers missed them? Yes. Did I feel bad that I’d developed enough of a reputation that the Tupperware emptied almost immediately?  

Not even a little bit.