Dress Recap

First, Internet, I've been remiss in claiming that bridal store harpies are ancient women with frizzy hair and poor choices of lipstick. Sometimes they are college age girls who are a lot like the cute ones who run Victoria's Secret, except for the whole annoying let-me-help-you-please-please-please attitude that makes you think Victoria's Secret clerks are secretly Victoria's Slaves and only get their daily ration of carb-free bread and water if they score at least 5 bra fittings per day. It went something like this:

JEN, SUPER CUTE BRIDAL SHOP ASSISTANT: hovering near the dressing room Maggie? How are you doing?

MAGGIE & FELLOW BRIDESMAID: rustle rustle snort giggle whisper rustle shriek

MAGGIE: Fine! Thanks!

JEN: Can I get anything for you?

MAGGIE & FELLOW BRIDESMAID: snort cackle rustle

MAGGIE: We're fine! Thanks!

three minutes pass

JEN: Maggie? Still in there?

MAGGIE: Yep! We're fine!

JEN: Just checking! Let me know if you need anything!

MAGGIE: Will do!

MAGGIE & FELLOW BRIDESMAID: howling with silent laughter

two minutes later

JEN: Maggie?

MAGGIE & FELLOW BRIDESMAID: rustle rustle rip snort shriek

JEN: Maggie?

JEN: How are you doing?

MAGGIE & FELLOW BRIDESMAID: laaaaaaaauuuuuuuggggghhhhhhhiiiinnnnnggg

THE OTHER SUPER CUTE BRIDAL SHOP ASSISTANT: I'm doing just fine, Jen, thanks.

After the fifth or sixth time Jen flitted by the dressing room and timidly asked us if we needed anything, I finally made it clear that Fellow Bridesmaid and I were happy to be left alone, thanks, and we'd call if we needed anything. And the one time we did call? They were completely useless. What do they mean, all the dresses in that style are at the seamstress? Still, I vastly prefer the inept college girl assistant to the crotchety old ladies who think it's totally fine to adjust your boobs without asking first.

Of course, it is COMPLETELY POINTLESS to go try on dresses when the dresses are all ONE SIZE. I am not going to tell you what size this is because, well, I know some shame. Suffice to say that the sample size was much too large for Fellow Bridesmaid and much too small for me, hence the small tears of pained laughter that now stain every sample dress in the store. Not only that, we were crammed into one tiny dressing room made of two walls and two curtains, so that every time we moved, someone's butt was sticking out past the curtain into the store. I ended up liking this one and this one (which, strangely enough, was recommended to me by one of my Dear Readers (and not at all the Dear Reader who lived with me for two years and therefore truly understands the dearth of style and svelteness.)) Anyway, when you are tired, sore, standing around in your underwear and you have to put the dress over your head because you can't pull it up around your butt, everything suddenly becomes sadly and pathetically hilarious.

Comments

[mom]

I like the second one.