So my experience yesterday was absolutely horrific. I spent too much time at this formal wedding gown shop or “shoppe”---whatever the frig you wanna call it and got the whole “oooooooooooooooh try this one on” type of treatment. Nice. Catering. Princess-like treatment. Total disaster.
I need to separate my damn paragraphs for this…
Tall sophisticated lady throws this huge satin purple prom dress up on the display hanger.
“You have to try this on in order to know if you’ll like it or not.”
“NO. It’s a prom dress.”
“Really, you have to see it on first.”
“NO. It’s purple.”
She scoots me in the huge dressing room and throws a pair of ugly gold high-heeled shoes with a bunch of straps all over them. By the time I managed to get all the straps together to make sure they were on correctly, a huge mother load of ugly dresses were flung over the curtain rail.
Some beige, off-white sequenced up to the max looking window curtain is the first one I try on.
I slip into it and the damn thing doesn’t get half past my ass.
“Oh let me see.” WHAAAAAAP---the curtain goes flying open and I’m standing there with the dress squeezing both my legs together with the top flopping down to my knees.
“It. doesn’t. fit.” I said, now angry that she has shown the entire shop my boobage and the junk that can’t fit in the trunk.
“Oh just put it on and come out here.” She said, totally knowing that I was going to have a conniption fit. I stepped into it and put the spaghetti straps over my shoulders.
“Now come out here so I can zipper you up.”
I walked out, noticing that for some reason, it was quite difficult to get out of the dressing room due to the can can look of the dress. I looked like something from the 1800’s. She swirls me out to the big circus mirror and to my horror, I was one of those ‘Can Can Girls’ from those Shoprite commercials. She zippered me up, my waist went in and the boobs went up, and the dress below blew up like a balloon! I could have fit 12 midgets under that sucka’.
“I feel like I’m 70 first of all and second of all, I look like a damn can can girl!”
“Ok, go back in the fitting room.”
Apparently, the woman got frustrated with me because I told her “nontraditional dress”, but she did the inevitable straight girl’s dream: she handed me a 200 lb WHITE dream wedding dress.
I stood there holding this heavy ass dress in my hands mumbling, "Oh. muyyy. GAWD." The thickness of the dress alone was 3 inches. Are you crazy? WHITE + GURTH?
I didn’t even step into it. Instead, I had a full-fledged anxiety attack, handed the lady her huge behemoth of a wedding dress and went to the local bar,
…and drank heavily.