I would never go so far as to call myself a fashionista, but I’d like to think I do dress with a certain amount of decent style. Most women can relate the various reasons as to why this can be an especially difficult challenge. For me, it’s my larger size 12 frame complete with smallish, differently sized boobs and a rear end my mother once described as “like J-Lo’s… if I was skinnier.” Point is, clothes shopping is usually an exercise in me carting 50 things off the sales racks and into the dressing room, only to come up with maybe 5 things I actually think look good on me.
When it came to wedding dress shopping, I expected a similar experience with the added fun of arguments with my mom over what would be the “perfect dress.” While mom and I for the most part share a similar sense of style, we have engaged in enough battles over my wardrobe choices over the years, that I expected nothing short of ‘Nam-like battles to rage over the tiniest details of what is supposedly the most critical fashion decision a woman ever makes. Add to all this the long engagement factor (to be explained in a later post), I was expecting the most epic of shopping experiences to unfold as I set forth on the path of dress shopping.
So, when I stepped into David’s bridal this Fourth of July afternoon, I really had no intention of finding anything I liked, less than actually purchasing my dress. In fact, I was driven there by two reasons (neither of which were intent to buy a dress): 1) because, while I was in town, my mom was pushing me toward trying to do as many wedding things as possible and, to her chagrin, I was not feeling ready to go meet with florists, and 2) this big chain store was one of few bridal shops open on a holiday (unlike the several boutique shops in the area I had researched and was excited to one day visit).
As you can surmise by the title of this post, to my surprise, I did find my dress. The fourth bridal gown I tired on on the Fourth of July. After tweeting this to David’s bridal, they tweeted back that this must be a sign of luck. Hey, I’ll take any luck I can get these days!
I’ve decided to commemorate my experience in the ode below (bonus points to readers who know what I modeled this after). Enjoy!
C at the Bridal Shop
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for America’s holiday,
No plans to look forward to, on the couch I desired to lay.
And then when mom at first, “to the florist” did proclaim.
I thought a visit to a dress shop would instead keep her tame.
A straggling few shops were open, as we might have guessed
Mostly chain stores, and, while unsurprising, I was a bit depressed
I thought, “if only there was more open for us to shop at
But not like we’d put up money now, we’re just going to look and chat.”
So somewhat begrudgingly, two appointments I did make
And let my grandma know my plans, I thought she’d want to partake
So outward we went, and in my parent’s car we sat
To first make a stop at a department store for undies to hold in my fat.
In the lingerie section, oh the wonderment of it all
I found something that would flatten my abdominal wall
It took three department stores before I saw what I preferred
The lack of good shapeware, we thought, was totally absurd.
After paying more than I would have liked for my new body shell
We drove through the valley, I was certain to another hell
We arrived to David’s Bridal in 10 minutes flat
And together we were advancing to the store’s welcome mat
There was an ease in my mom’s manner as she stepped into the place
Surrounded by dresses with beading, with rhinestones, with lace
And I’ll admit I was bracing myself for an afternoon of spats
As my mom and I sometimes bicker like a pair of spoiled brats.
While I was glad to have her there, we could sometimes be quite curt
when it came to decisions about fashion, be it dress or pants or skirt.
Finally, time for my appointment, three dresses in my grip;
clerk by my side, into the dressing room I did slip.
And over my head, the first dress came hurling through the air;
out of the dressing room I stood to in my grandeur stare.
But rather, I stepped out, my mom with a look of dread,
this was certainly not the dress in which I would wed
While my favorite of the picks, on me it was nothing short of poor
Rather than bride, I looked more like a decked out petit four
“Next one,” my mom said as I stood up on the stand
Surely the next one would have to be more grande
I tried on two more dresses, each lovely on their own
But they made me look like a dumpy girl, instead of beautiful and full gown
My mom signaled to the stylist, about a dress that had caught her view
With ruched bodice and a waistline that was slightly askew.
The stylist went to grab it from off its handing rod
Meanwhile, I thought the pick was really somewhat odd.
Nothing I would have thought to pick, it really was rather plain
But my mom thought the ruching might be good for my frame
The smile was gone from my lip, was thinking I needed to lose weight
As the stylist climbed under the skirt to make sure it was pulled straight
And then I left the dressing room, and with a thought of “whoa”
The dress really looked good, my mom’s face began to glow
Somewhere from the store, I was brought tiara and belt to shine bright
And really everything just started to feel right
And for the three generations there, we were ready to shout
There was only joy in the bridal shop, I had found my dress no doubt!