Gray Skies Are Going To Clear Up, Put On A Happy Face

I went back to the bridal shop with my future Mother-in-law today.  After mulling it over for a week I decided I wasn’t going to be satisfied until I tried the dress on again and made an appointment with the original consultant I worked with.  I wanted her to appease my apprehension and go over the dress in detail, pointing out how alterations can fix this and that…and pretty much just tell me I’m being a fretful little ninny.  Because apparently now I’m posing an English accent on my bridal salon consultant, who, in fact, was not British.

I invited my Mother-in-law along because I wanted her to see my dress and because I wanted her to feel included in the whole wedding process.  And also because she’s a very assertive woman who could help me speak up.

We were going to go for the whole “good cop, bad cop” thing.  But, in actuality, I have trouble even playing the role of good cop.  I’m more of the “oh heck, I totally believe you’re innocent, DNA what?” cop.  Which makes me a friendly person.  But also a really bad cop.

(Gracious cop?  Pleasant cop?  Sociable cop?  Someone’s been using her Word Thesaurus?)

Anyhow, the lady who helped me was more than willing to stand with me for an hour, going over every little detail of the dress, assuring me where it can be taken out and where I’ll actually need it taken in.  She had all kinds of suggestions on how to fix any little thing that seemed out of place to my critical eye.  Basically, how to tweak it to my body.

I can’t even begin to tell you how much better I feel about the entire thing.  I started to feel gorgeous in the dress again.  Like it was made for me again.

So we didn’t need to break out “bad cop.”  And I’m glad about that.  Because my “bad cop” might have offered to pay her house mortgage or something.  I’ll need to work on “bad cop.”

 

It Was That Extra Hotdog That One Day, I Just Know It

Ok, so I’ve been telling this story to pretty much anyone who will listen.  So I am hesitant to hash it all out in a blog.  Because I’m lazy.  And I’m clearly on a sentence fragment kick.  As you all can see. 

I’m obnoxious. 

Anyhoo, to make a long story short (and to go back to my post about cliche phrases, which I hate, but tend to use all the friggin’ time, damnit), I got a call from the bridal salon that my dress was in on Wednesday.

Yippee!

Wish I felt that “yippee-ness” by the end of that experience, but sadly I didn’t have such a good appointment.

I originally had made an appointment for my bridesmaid that Wednesday and it was pure coincidence that my dress had arrived that morning.  So I figured I’d set up an appointment for the next night because Wednesday was intended to be all about my friend and finding her dress.  By the time I got there, though, Allie had convinced me that I had to “try the dress on, how can you resist, woman?!”

So I did. 

Let me back up a little, though and mention that the store was a little busy.  And we were assigned to a new sales clerk who had been there about 2 weeks.  I’ll put it nicely…she didn’t have a clue what she was doing.  In fact, Allie had to help me into my dress.  That’s not right at a bridal salon. 

So Allie is all up in my business, reaching for fabric, trying to tug down and get my little arm wrapped around and in, and holy moly was it a hilarious sight.  And then came the zipping.  When she zipped me in I instantly knew something wasn’t right.  Mainly because the breath I just took couldn’t be let out.  Literally.  How the hell did women in the 1900s wear corsets?  We humans are not meant to “shallow breathe.”

At first I was a little taken aback, but didn’t think much of it.  But as the night went on and the sales clerk couldn’t  help answer any of my questions and the lady who could was busy with other brides, I started to get pissed.  Clearly the clerk had ordered a size too small for me.  In fact, when I remember back, she was close to ordering me the size bigger, but at the last minute decided she’d order the size that would fit my hips exactly.  Obviously the 20 seconds she spent measuring me was  not enough because when I saw her measurement sheet, I couldn’t believe she had my waist so small.  I’m tiny, but come on people!  Can’t a girl have some room for a little winter weight?!

I ended up paying the difference for the dress (which I’m kicking myself for now) and allowing myself to be shooed out of the store with affirmations that everything will be fine and it’s an easy fix for a seamstress to let out. 

But.

I just feel so crummy about the whole thing.  I knew all along I’d have to have alterations.  I’m funny shaped.  5’2.  No boobs (what the hell, Rodgers genes?).  Hips (oh, there you are Rodgers genes!).  I have a freakishly long torso, and the shortest legs in Southeastern Wisconsin.  But I didn’t think I’d feel so completely crappy putting a dress I originally fell in love with on for the second time. 

And I still feel that way.  The store clerk told me I shouldn’t get alterations done until November, but I can’t see myself going 5 months with this feeling about my dress overshadowing the excitement of the big day.  I need to know that it can be fixed and that I’m going to feel gorgeous in this dress.  And that I can eat.  And dance.  And maybe even breathe, too (I know it’s a lot to ask).  The whole thing just feels fussy and makes me feel down.

Not to mention it gives me a little bit of a complex.  I KNOW the dress was ordered too small.  But, well…it was a long winter.  And I have a comfy couch.  And maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that extra hotdog that one day.  Gah!

I think I’ll be making another appointment with the bridal salon.  And I think I’m going to speak up about demanding better service and demanding they ease my mind that this really is fixable and I’m not going to have to be shoved into a wedding dress come December.  Shoved in like a little sausage.  Or hotdog.  Mmmm…hotdogs.

 

You Guys Haven’t Been Waiting For This Post, Have You?

Did I leave you hanging for too long?  My apologies.  It’s been a busy weekend hanging with the madre so I haven’t had much time to write.  Excuses aside, here’s how the dress shopping went down.

My mom flew in Wednesday night.  Originally, we planned to use all day Thursday and Friday and maybe even the weekend to hunt down the dress.  To make Operation Find The One go as smooth as possible, my friend Allie and I visited a few bridal stores to weed through some of the likes and dislikes.  This way I could show my mom the favorites.

At one of the stores, I ended up finding quite a few that I fell in love with.  So I booked an appointment for first thing Thursday morning.  And in less than 2 hours, we were walking out of the store with a deposit down on a dress.  I think we were both in a little bit of shock at how easy that was. 

It came down to 2 at the end.  Both were gorgeous and I was actually leaning more towards the one I ended up not getting.  But my mom and the sales lady, as well as other visitors in the store, kept raving about the one I did get.  And so I tried it on one more time and, bam, that’s all I needed.  It’s the one.

I knew going into this whole experience that I wanted a unique dress.  I told the sales girl right away that I wanted something a little chic, a little different, but that wouldn’t wear me.  I think the dress ended up being a perfect blend.  It’s a one shoulder gown with a beautiful flower on the shoulder and a fit and flare silhouette.  The bottom of the dress has ruffles that flow all the way down to the floor.  It even matches my shoes perfectly (bonus!).  The dress is funky.  It’s modern.  But it’s also soft and a bit romantic in a way.  It’s a dress people will probably have an opinion on – good or bad.  But in a world of strapless, beaded numbers (I tried many beautiful ones on, but they didn’t do it for me) I’m ok with having something a little outside the box.

I struggle with whether I should post a picture of the dress on this blog.  I have a print out copy of the dress that I haven’t had any reservations about showing to people.  However, sometimes it’s nice to be surprised.  So I’m leaving the decision up to you all.  If you want to see a picture of the dress that an overly shiny model is wearing for the ad campaign, let me know and I’ll send you a link.  If you want to be surprised in December, then…wow, I’m going to need lessons from you in will power.

Anyhow – a big thanks to my mom who not only helped me find the dress, but has hashed out all kinds of wedding details that I’ve been putting off.  Sometimes we all just need that little boost.  And moms are sometimes the best people to give us that.

 

Guess What?

I don’t have much time to write, but I wanted to let you all know…

I found a dress!

Woohoo!

And in the literary world, this is what we call a cliffhanger.  Because my mom and I are heading out the door soon and I can’t write about the whole experience.  But, I’ll write soon, promise.  Stay tuned!

 

Let The Sappiness Ensue

Guess what, my little lovelies?  I have a VIP visitor in T-minus 2 days! 

See if you can guess.

She’s the person who let me lick the batter off the mixing spoons whenever she made chocolate chip cookies when I was a kid. 

She’s the same person who showed up for writing awards, teacher conferences and basketball games. 

She took off countless days from work to pick me up from school during my 5th grade year when I was having a really rough time and getting really sick. 

She was also the person who sat on the floor and cried with me when I was so overwhelmed with anxiety at this time in my life as well.  And she’s the one who stuck with me when I started to get better. 

She’s the one who delivered the first birds and bees talk.  Oy. Vey.

She’s the one who will scold me for swearing and then turn around and tell a story that might make a sailor blush.  (And usually her sisters are helping her fill in the blanks, too.)

She’s who I think of when defining self-less, warm and the rock of the family.  And because she’s modest, she’ll never admit she is all of these, but she is.  And everybody knows it.

She’s the one who will go wedding dress shopping with me this week.  And I’m so excited that not only will she be there for me as my mom, but also as my friend.

 

No Really, I Think I Must Be Mistaken…I Don’t See Any Of You Raising Your Hand Anymore…

I went shopping for wedding dresses tonight with Allie-boo.  I found so many I love that I think I might just have to throw more than one wedding.  Who’s up for an entire weekend wedding?

(Everybody is raising their hand I assume?)

Anybody want to fund it?

…crickets…

 

Does My Butt Look Big In All This Tulle?

My BBFF Allie (the extra ‘b’ stands for blonde and yeah, we’re that cool) are going dress “looking” again on Monday.  I say “looking” because I’m not planning to “shop.”  Which, if I stopped being annoying and using quotation marks, basically means I’m not buying anything yet.  Not until I can have my mushy little moment with my mom getting to see me in the dress.

My mom is flying into town at the end of March for a “Wedding Dress Extravaganza” weekend.  If my assumptions are correct, we’ll pretty much be on wedding dress autopilot for her entire visit.  Which is exciting, but also a little nerve-wracking at the same time.  I worry a little that I won’t find “the one” when she’s here. 

So that’s why Allie and I have been on the prowl to check out little boutiques and get an idea of what dress styles might look good and if the shops are even worth a second visit when Mom’s here. 

So I’ll keep you updated on how Monday goes.  And thanks, Allie, for being such a fantastic little boo/co-maid of honor by running all over Oz County with me and taking lots of headless pictures.  (Do you know this girl asked me what color I wanted her hair to be on my wedding day?  Like…she just handed over to me the rights to her hair color for that day.  If she’s not careful, she’s going to turn me into a full-blown bridezilla.  And then our plan to land on that show might actually work.)

 

An NFL Sunday Miracle

Ok, I’m going to say this just this once and just this once only…

I actually felt a wee baby bit sad for Brett Favre yesterday.  Hence the title of this post.  That IS a miracle.

Before the game started I was talking loads of smack, asking (forcing) Tony to declare allegience to the Saints and yelling every couple seconds at the TV, “Kick the shit out him boys!  Bring that old man to the ground!”

And then when it started to happen more and more…I started to feel kind of…what do you call this emotion?  Kinda bad…

I am not a Brett Favre fan.  I wasn’t even a big Brett Favre fan when he was on the Packers – the man was unpredictable (cough, interceptions much?).  And then add this whole waffling back and forth.  And then throw in the fact that Packer fans tend to be a little crazy about their team.  And you have one giant mess that he made.

I get it.  He wanted to play football.  But for the Vikings?  Really, Brett?  Really? 

Anyhow – by 4th quarter yesterday I was sitting on the couch next to Tony who was starting to waffle on his allegience (a.k.a. he kept going to cheer when the Vikings would do something good and then look at  me really quick out of sheer panic that I was going to bite him) and suddenly I started to wish deep down that the Vikings might actually pull through.

God – a little part of my soul just died right there and then when I wrote that.

Anyhow – that was the miracle that occurred yesterday.  I’m still trying to digest that.

Moving on to wedding business.  I went and tried on wedding dresses today.  I went to a little shop in Cedarburg and the lady who helped me was so darn friendly.  I want to write a whole paragraph about how I found the one, but alas, it was not meant to be I guess.

I think I was a little thrown off by the process.  I’m not sure if this is how a lot of salons operate, but she took me into the area where they had the dresses and had me pick through them for ones I like.  Have you ever seen a big, frou frou wedding dress in a bag?  It just looks like a bag full of material.  It’s hard to envision what that big ball of material will look like on your body.  So my boo, Allie, and I started picking anything that looked half-way decent and the first round was a bust.  Nothing grabbed me.

The next round I had a little help from the consultant who took what we learned from the first round and pulled some dresses she thought would look good.  By the end of the appointment I had about 4 dresses I liked.  But “like” is the operative word.  Nothing that thrilled me.  No tears or huge exclamations like “this is the one!”  I did love things about each dress so I had her write them all down and when my mom comes to visit in 2 months we’ll revisit the shop.  Problem is -3 of the 4 are over budget.  Because of the way we picked the dresses, there really wasn’t much of a budget talk.

Walking away from this experience, I feel a little…overwhelmed.