Until today, the most important dress I had ever owned was this hot yellow number that my mom got me that I wore as an 8-year-old on national TV. It was my best dress. Even better than the amazing dresses I wore to high school dances.
But today I officially became the owner of the VERY BEST DRESS. My mom, my sister Prinna and I went to the bridal salon to pick up my very amazing wedding dress, and (my parents) made the final payment on the hot, white little number. I went into the store wearing stupid regular clothes and came out with a dress made of sunshine. I hate all my stupid regular clothes now.
So we get in to the store and they pulled out my brand new, very white dress. All. For. Me. So much white. So much awesome.
Now, I know I joke about this a lot, but I've actually been working purdy durn hurd at the gym and at not eating bagels so that I could lose a few lbs. In the past several weeks, this lady (points to self) has ticked 12 pounds off the scale. When I tried my dress on the first time and fell harder in love with that than I ever have with anything else in my life (expect, of course, BAGELS...oh, and probably Geo too) I felt like a trillion bucks. I was 12 pounds bigger, but it didn't matter. It was a stunner.
Oh, and I should mention that even if 12 pounds doesn't sound like a lot, for a girl who only has 5 feet 2 inches in which to spread out weight, it is significant.
Anyways, I've been obsessed with my stupid weight. My goal was to have the dress slip right off of me because it would prove that I am soooooooo much smaller than I was the first time I tried it on. Honestly? It didn't exactly do that. I slipped into all the same uncomfortable "gear" that women wear under wedding dresses, and the girl fixed up the back of my dress. It stayed up. BARELY. It didn't fall off me, but it definitely was too big. For the very first time ever, I was glad that I had wasted valuable hours in a gym and eating untasty foods rather than enjoying life.
But in a moment all to myself, I looked at myself in the mirrors and noted the details of the dress. It turned out I was so much less impressed with my smaller body than I was with the fact that this dress...this incredible dress...is going to be the one I get married in. It was suddenly very, very real. I owned this dress. Everything I've been planning and stressing out about mattered so much less because someday, I will show my kids this dress. Much like my mom showed me hers. And it will be so much more important than tablecloths and napkins and invitations and cake flavors. This dress will be my new version of the hot yellow dress I wore a billion years ago.
I had intended to write a very hilarious blog post about how ridonkulous the process of trying on a wedding dress can be, but it was surprisingly emotional for me. Yes, the girls at the store were unhelpful and decided to keep the store at 160 degrees. Oh, and they insisted on hanging out in the same room as me when I changed bras and shoved myself into Spandex that is probably not intended for humans. Not to mention the fact that I can dress myself, thankyouverymuch. And at least 2 girls just stood there while I contorted myself into and out of physically unattractive positions that I generally save for fits of food poisoning.
I could talk about that. But instead, I think it's actually more shocking that I saw myself in MY wedding dress tonight and couldn't even think of one joke inside of my head. I had on MY dress, not the sample that a billion other hopefuls have tried on and smells like B.O. I put on MY dress for the first time anyone has put on that dress. And it was too big but there was no thought in my head that thought it would look better on anyone else in the world. Not someone smaller. Not someone with better eating habits or a marathoner. It was made for me and it was perfect.