Ball gowns...

So, besides my twin, I have a younger sister. She is a senior in high school and will graduate in May. And as of January 1, this year became the year of our Lord Katelyn 2005. She is the top of her class, an athlete, and a singer. Even though I'm the oldest, I have a serious case of the Jan Brady syndrome.

So prom is coming up, and Oola and I were enlisted to help pick out the yards and yards of satin and crinoline that was to be Kat's ball gown. Of course, she doesn't really want my help: she just wants to twirl around in little fairy princess dresses and remind me how everything fits her to a T and everything fits me like some awkward letter, like W or cursive Q. She really wanted something with a train; I reminded her that people will be dancing and the train is not the best idea when you have a bunch of un-graceful-gangly-testosterone-driven-teenage boys moving in clumps to "Yeah". She took my advice for about five minutes, found a very pretty yellow dress within an hour (which is like God creating the Earth in 7 days...really good time), and was good to go. But then, she remembered the whole train thing, and spent the next FOUR HOURS looking for a dress with a train.

Five hours later, she bought the damn yellow dress.