So I went to pick up my wedding dress last week…. I went by myself, no big deal… it’s just a dress. How hard could collecting one dress be? One migraine and two tiny panic attacks later… Oh, and a call to my MIL and some french fries (for the headache… they are like aspirin… eat two handfuls and don’t get on the scale in the morning) I got my dress.
The alterations lady beat me up, attacked my dress with scissors, lost my receipt and just generally freaked me out! I am never doing wedding stuff alone again. First of all, she had a major accent… I’m awful with accents… I mis-hear stuff with just a normal Midwestern accent… throw in an Asian accent? I was so lost. (I’m gonna be fun in Thailand, huh?)
I tried on the dress, it fit great… and I am even more adorable than I remember (fine, maybe a bit conceited, but I am the Bride…. I get to be that way for a few weeks more… I’ll behave after the wedding, I will… really…). Gosh am I ever sparklie in that dress! Every time I try it on I love the dress a little more (which may be why Lynn said I should keep it at her house and not because she didn’t want Brian to peek at it. She might have realized that I’d be wearing it all day long….hhmmmm).
Anyway, fits great, looks great…. I can even probably eat that cupcake if I want too and still fit just fine…. Everything is fine until the alterations lady begins to bustle my dress. She flips it up, she tugs, gives me a few layers to hold and then jerks! I almost sat on her. Finally she wanders off muttering something (heck if I know what ) and eventually comes back with needles and more bustle hooks. When my butt was finally poofy enough she decided that it was crooked. She disappears and comes back with scissors! At this point I stopped watching. I’m not sure what happened for a while after that… she would tug on my dress and I would turn in that direction until she snarled at me. When it was all over there were little ribbons of my dress all over the floor and at least three more bustle hooks.
Next she tells me that she will draw me a map… a freaking map! detailing how to bustle my dress. (She was irritated that my head would not turn, in owl fashion, toward the back of my body to watch her hook the bustle.) The map makes no sense to me, but I nodded and agreed and ran for the dressing room the first chance I got.
Her last comments to me were, “you hang, but down.” It could have been a threat, but I decided to take it to mean that I should hang my dress… and let the bustle down. I took it to Lynn’s. That will keep me from playing with it, though frankly, I am a bit afraid of the bustle now anyway.
If anyone at the wedding has an engerneering degree, let me know…. whe might need your help come wedding day.