First things first: the dress fits beautifully. All that needs to be done is hemming in two places and perhaps creating a tiny bustle. I'm not worried about the mechanics of it. I'm not even very worried about the cost of said alterations anymore, although at one point I was so pissed about the continued rip-off-ness that is anything with the word "wedding" attached to it, I considered going elsewhere. A few smart warnings and the enticement of the store shipping the finished dress to NC for me, thus preventing the need to travel with it, changed my mind. So no, the price isn't even what has me so jumpy today.
The problem goes back to where we started with this whole shopping experience: this town, this and other stores, and the people I'll be hanging out with in my underwear later today (save for one, but I fear the fact that since she lost her job and is coming back only for our appointment, her mood won't be top-notch). The entire experience has from the beginning made me feel crappy about myself, and I'm dreading my return trip. (Unfortunately, my sidekick is otherwise engaged being six and a half months pregnant right now, so unavailable for "biatch alert.") I'm not sure if my terrible dress-shopping experiences say more about Dallas (a vanity-obsessed skinnytown), or my bad luck running into awful people, or my bad choices about where I went shopping in the first place, but my normal, confident self knows all of these things for a fact:
- I am not "too broad" to wear wedding dresses, as I've been told by the people trying to sell me wedding dresses
- I do not have "very large" hips (imagine that said in a condescending Parisian accent, FYI), but even if I did, screw them!
- I actually look great in the dress that I chose, and when I try it on in my own environment, I feel fantastic in it
- Women of all shapes and sizes deserve to have a dress-shopping experience that makes them feel great about themselves
- Places that make potential customers feel bad about themselves do not deserve their money
- I am smarter than to put up with so much attitude
Here I am, sitting in my office surrounded by items of professional accomplishment and tokens that are important to me: photos of loved ones, snippets of my published past, my "I Like the Smell of Newsprint in the Morning" coffee mug, some outrageously fun new "campaign stickers" for the wedding, and my general air of confident, optimistic calm. But all I can think about is how I'm going to strategize undressing and putting on the gown alone in order to prevent a snarky size comment from the seamstress again, or how I should've worked out yesterday, or how maybe I should rethink my nixing of Spanx, and blahblahblah. Frankly, it's embarrassing. I am smarter and more confident than this. Two months out from our wedding, I don't want to put up with second-guessing and passive-agressive comments that subtly recommend a brief eating disorder as I aerobicize my way to May 24.
Really, can't they be just a little bit nicer and give me a break? Just this once?