And they lived happily ever after….
Maybe I should have asked my mother for some clarification on that. Exactly what happens after they ride off into the sunset together? Do they park the white horse at Bloomingdale’s and go register for wedding presents? Do their families argue about whose castle will host the wedding? When the families disagree on something, does someone end up in the moat?
Why didn’t twelve-year-old me think to ask for clarification on that one?
1
Today should have been the happiest day of my life. Well, not the happiest—the day Jack proposed to me, that was the happiest day of my life—but today should certainly be one of the happiest days of my life. After all, I love shopping, I love that I’m getting married to Jack, and so, therefore, I should love wedding dress shopping. What could be better than combining these two fabulous things, à la the discovery of the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup? Well, maybe combining shoe shopping with my excitement about getting married would be better, but you get the general point I’m trying to make.
The point is, I should love wedding dress shopping. But, I don’t. So far, it has been a haze of obnoxious and fake salespeople, unwanted commentary on my weight from my mother, and a wave of general dissatisfaction on my part. And that’s just today.
“Are you planning on losing any weight before your wedding?” the salesperson asks me.
“Um, yes?” I say, careful to position my body just so, away from the three-sided mirror, which has the effect of thrusting my cellulite directly into the line of vision of my mother, who is standing outside the dressing room in yet another mother-of-the-bride dress. The salesperson zips me up, and I turn around to face my mom.
“Oh, my God, Brooke,” my best friend, Vanessa, says, “you look so beautiful I think I’m going to cry!” Vanessa is not the type to cry—in the eight years since I’ve known her I can count the times I’ve seen her cry on one hand—so if she says she’s about to cry, this dress must be really good.