I should have known from the minute we walked in the door that this was not going to go like I had hoped nor how they romantically depict it to be on tv and in the movies. To start, my appointment (those things you make so you don't have to wait around) was half an hour late to start. No big deal, I'll just look around the aisles to see if any dresses caught my eye. I had already reserved a couple dresses to try on that I had found online but figured maybe I'd find more options. This was not a success. Not because I couldn't find anything else I liked within my price range, but because I got elbowed and pushed around by momzillas and the likes without any courteous pardons or apologies. Why are people so rude? It's beyond me.
Feeling frustrated and a bit overwhelmed already, I was relieved when I was finally assigned a fitting room and chairs for my mom and sisters who accompanied me. I went inside to try on a bodice/bustier while the gal searched for the dresses I reserved. This is when the meltdown began. For starters, how the hell was I supposed to latch all 94758 of those little latchie doohickies by myself? Deep breath. I'll just latch it in front and twist it around the right way. Abort mission. That sucker wasn't moving, which, I guess is the point! Didn't matter, I broke down crying, feeling completely overwhelmed and over it all before I had even tried on any dresses. I broke out into a sweat feeling anxious and claustrophobic. The lack of moving air in the room and the open ceiling concept which allowed me to hear the cries of the upset flower girl next door didn't help. At all.
Ok, quick pep talk to get myself together so I could get dressed and call for my mom for backup. Mom is always the best backup; she'll know just what to do and say. Holding back my tears, I crack open the door and tell my mom I need her. Not two seconds after the door closes behind us, I lose it! Full on ugly cry, swearing off this stupid day, and wishing I could just leave. I don't need a wedding dress if this is what it takes to get it! Of course my mom knows what to say to calm me down and she helps me get that stupid bodice back on and try on my first dress. Deep breath.
The first dress is a style that grew on me in recent years; I like it and so do my mom and sisters. They smile and take pictures, I fake smile and wish I didn't look like a swollen tomato from all that ugly crying. Dress two is gorgeous and far from what I expected to like but it really was dreamy. However, it was not THE dress and didn't compliment my figure well. Back to dress one. This is the one. STOP IT RIGHT NOW! If you're thinking this was a joyous moment and you're excited, just stop it! There was no joy in this moment, only relief that I wouldn't have to keep shopping and potentially run into this scene again. I asked my peeps if it was ok if this was the one and they question whether I'm saying this just to get this whole ordeal over with. I assure them this wasn't the case (although I was ready for it to be over) and this really is the dress for me. As is tradition at this shop, they ask if this is the dress and have me ring a bell to seal the deal. Everyone in the shop claps and I look like the most miserable bride. If you saw the picture from that moment, you would laugh. F*ck that bell! I'm over it!