Let me start off by confessing this whole adventure was kick-started completely by happenstance. One day, while on a break at work, I noticed I had been tagged in a post on Facebook by one of my friends. The name of the page where the original post resided was completely foreign to me, but I was instantly drawn in when I noticed it contained the word “Boudoir.”

Have you ever seen one of those cheesy moments in movies where a revelation is depicted by the utilization of a larger than life, flashing sign? Well this was exactly what that moment felt like for me! I was instantly hooked and had to know more.

The post with the actual image was initially invisible to me, as I was not a member of TaraLyn’s Photography pages, but I was being solicited by a girlfriend to come and try on a “Cinderella Dress.” The only requirement posted was that whomever was a size 8 and fit in this dress would receive a completely, stylized photoshoot with complementary photos to boot. By the time my friend actually sent me a text with a digital image of the dress, three or more hours had passed and several other women had already expressed interest in trying on this magical dress. I thought about it for a while before responding to the post. You see…Good things never happen to me. I am a walking “Murphy’s Law” ad to be quite frank. But something inside me said, “To hell with it Beth. You are down to a size 8 for the second time in your life, might as well go for it.” So I signed my name on the proverbial dotted line, and the waiting game began. 

To put this all in context…The post was made early in the week. By the time I saw it and put my name in the ring, it was midweek. Several women had expressed interest before myself, so when Friday rolled around, I figured it was just going to end in a wash like everything else in my life seems to do. 

Right as I’m explaining to one of my work friends how nothing good ever happens to me, I receive a text. At first, I just ignore it and continue to run my loudmouth and complain about life.  A few minutes later, after I decided to quit complaining and suck it up, I read the text. 

Holy S***!!!! The “Cinderella Dress” was still awaiting its Cinderella. By the very next day, I was trying to squeeze my 32 year-old, childbearing, mom-bod into what we would later find out was a Misses Size 8 dress. In my dreams!

Although it turns out, I am NOT actually Cinderella like I previously envisioned, with just a little of Tara’s help, my true identity was discovered…

FROM NOW ON PEASANTS, YOU CAN BOW BEFORE MY FEET AND REFER TO ME AS “THE WINTER QUEEN!”