Cinderella Goes to the Ball

Last Edit December 8, 1998
Added photos (prelim scan) 12/10/98

The dress fits - and has room to spare. I forgo the bow (pinned it to the purse) and fastened the mock-wrap with a broach.
So I have been cheating on my diet - so I don't drop so fast.
The looming surgery will take me down a lot. Five days on IV will do that.
And, I get tired. All the chaos of the remodel. The new job. And getting ready for the date.
But I was careful. And I did not cheat on Saturday.
Saturday I was well behaved.
I was a nervous wreck.
I was too tense to eat.
I was, by 5PM, in my hotel room, bathed, coifed, and trying to get dressed.
My nylons are tight. My brand did not have black ones so I tried another - and it was an effort to get them one. Sausage skins. But they look good.
My body suit - a black diet-trim size 40 - down from size 44 - is not too tight but will do. Thank you Sears!
They are right. If you like your underwear, you do feel good!
I am dropping out to size 38 soon. Good. I have a lot of clothes that I will be able to wear soon.
For tonight, the important thing is the body suit holds in my hernia and lifts what nature wants to put on the floor. The Diet-Trim held me in and up just fine.
No slip. The back slit is too high on the thigh.
I put on makeup. I will skip the damn grease that I normally wear. I am trying to cover the bright red cheeks and forehead and chin. Ice has not helped. Nor has Tylenol.
Part of this is sunburn from the plane - in spite of sun block - and part is elevated blood pressure. I should have taken a sedative.
It took a few tries at getting the makeup in place. I am not pleased - it looks heavy. But I rub and dust and pat and finally it looks good enough.
I am less red. Now I am a strongly glowing pink. Thank god for the bangs.
I forgot to try on the dress with nylons and no slip. The dress clings. Static.
No static guard.
Guess what. I am creative. I am undaunted.
I use "Inner Realm" pheromone perfume and spray it on the dress and nylons.
Voila.
It works.
I have three cameras - a poster in a tube - photos - hardcopy of the fan club website - some of my stories - and a card. I will use the carry-on satchel and my purse. My purse I will keep light. Wallet, room key, lipstick, bow.
My strappy new shoes are great. Thank you Sears! The lady in Stoneridge Mall helped me out.
I am shaking.
I try to ignore it.
I've had my Medifast and a coffee. And Tylenol.
It has to be nerves.
I am ready.
I wait.
I am to go down to the lobby and wait for the driver.
At 7:10 I go down.
The lobby is at the parking level, off the street, underground.
I pace a little. Time crawls.
Then a long, black, shiny limo crawls in - and immediately turns the wrong way and disappears up the ramp.
I laugh.
I know this is my ride.
I grab the bags and stroll to the door.
When I can see its headlights coming back, I go out and start walking down the ramp to meet it.
The limo pulls up and the driver races over to check if I am the one. (He's not bad looking either - blond and in a black trench coat.)
Before he can get this sorted, the back door opens and a black-clad booted leg comes out. I know those boots. Fabio fairly explodes out of the limo and comes over, grinning, arms open wide to grab me in a big hug.
Oh yes.
He says he thought it was me but at first wasn't sure - I wasn't wearing my glasses.
I laugh and hug him right back.
Oh yes.
The driver by now has figured out that I am the right woman.
Yes, I am.
I forget my dignity.
How do you gracefully enter and exit a limo? I am used to climbing up into a Toyota van or sliding into a Toyota truck.
And because of the static, I don't want to slide much.
I slide in a little. He gets to hug the door. We end up pretty darn close.
Perfect.
Actually, I'm almost in his lap!
So what!
I talk too much. I don't think I stopped all evening.
He gives directions to the driver. We are not going to the place I didn't call to confirm reservations at - we are going where he wants to go. Where he likes the food better.
(He eats out all the time. Doesn't bother cooking.)
Fine by me!
We end up at Cafe Roma in Beverly Hills. He knows the owner and a few dozen other people. He is very gregarious, very friendly.
He has me leave the bag in the car - I grab one camera - but then I forget to use it!

We go inside, and he asks for water and a menu. (Note - One menu.)
I let him suggest. I want fish, vegetables.
He suggests the salmon.
He sent back my salad - it had cheese on it.
I ate a little of it when it came back.
The salmon was excellent.
We drank water. In wine glasses. Fabio does not drink. Nor do I.
He kept my glass filled. I needed it. We were talking.
I was shooting him questions. He sometimes would ask me one.
He wanted to know if I worked.
I told him I did, what degrees I had and that I "taught the boys how to play with their toys." He liked that. He quoted me later to one of his friends.
After three hours, he asked if I had covered all 35 questions. I said they were in the car.
We talked from 7:30 to 11 - except when one of his friends would arrive and he would burst out in Italian. He is lovely to listen to. I could pick up one word in twenty - he would turn to translate every few minutes. He is very attentive. Very polite.
I think I'll learn Italian.
I have studied Latin.
When I worried about the limo driver, Fabio told me he was paid to sit out there. He was in no hurry. He's used to riding in limos.
I am not.
We finally left and when we climbed back into the car I wasn't very far away this time either!
I opened the poster for Nina (he had never seen it before) and he signed it.
I opened the photos - with their signing instructions from Nina and Janice - the two women who egged me into doing this - and he followed the directions carefully after he got the pen to work.
I gave him one of me to sign any way he wanted - he wrote "Thanks for last night".
The devil.
The limo driver thought he was to take me on a tour - we said no, we will sit here.
What's to see in LA? All I wanted was in the back seat!
We read through the questions - all four pages - and I scribble fast. Some of them made him laugh. (See the interview.)
I showed him the fan club web site - I had hardcopy pages - all of it - and told him about all the women who help me. (Thank you ladies!) He took my hand, looked at me and said "Thank you".
Oh God!
I'll work harder.
I showed him some of my stories. Ones I had also mentioned in the Cafe. (Yes, he remembers the towel and the scowl photo from the calendar.)
I read him the e-mail from the woman who was cross bidding and others (E-Mail I Have Received).
He asked if he could have the copy and also some of the stories.
I think I impressed him. I hope I didn't overwhelm him. I had so much I wanted to say. So much to ask. So little time.
He was, by this time, tired, still weak from the flu and the nagging cough. I was cross-eyed from all the reading and the late hour. Not to mention a lack of coffee.
Cinderella was delivered to her door.
We finally remembered the cameras. The limo driver was pressed into service. He got a great photo of a leaf! Fabio looks good though!

We were both in black, against a black limo, in a dark garage. Oh good!
We took 3 on the 35mm. And three on the new Polaroid. One was OK.
The others are not back yet.
(My son says, "See. You should have taken me!")
I got a long, tight hug and soundly kissed on both cheeks. (Well, he is Italian!)
As he got back into the car and I was putting the cameras away, the security guard came running up "Is that who I think it is?"
Fabio rolled down to window to chat with him a moment.
The limo driver wanted to be sure I wasn't upset that he had tried to drive us somewhere. I assure him that we were just fine. I have seen LA - I preferred getting the interview.
As the limo finally pulled away, I got blown a kiss. I blew one back.
The guard walked me into the lobby. Said he was keeping people away from us. Good.
The lobby staff had to see the photos.
I don't mind.
Prolongs the excitement.
Actually, I am now numb.
I wander back to my room, jot a few notes and pack. I leave at 9:30AM for the airport.
Fabio doesn't get up until 11:30AM. He likes to sleep 11 hours a night.
I'm running on four hours.
Less in the state I am in.
I've warned him. Next event. I'll be there.
I am, after all, a fan.