Say “Yes” to the

23 Apr

dress.

The $10,000 wedding dress. What the fuck is this??? It’s a $10,000 special order wedding dress. It likely took several months or more to receive. I can’t wrap my mind around this. What sparked this, you ask? For some unknown reason my fucking TV is on for one, and for two it’s on TLC. ‘Say “Yes” to the Dress’ is on. It’s been on for an hour and a half. I am watching it for the first time and I hate it. However, the remote control is within reach and I have not turned it off. It’s a train wreck.

Also, I am clearly lazy.

I am obsessed with the expense and obsession of the dresses and brides. I am stunned at the amount of time it takes to get the dress. Multiple dresses tried on, multiple fittings, and multiple second guesses.  I don’t understand it. It’s only a fucking dress that you are going to wear one day for a few hours. Why spend thousands of dollars on it? I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND THE MADNESS!

When I got engaged, we did it because we wanted to get married. We wanted to get married now. We set a date ten weeks out. Yes, freakshows who spent a year plus planning your weddings, I did it in less than three months. I am not a planner. I am not a shopper. I am not visual person, so I suppose these things matter less to me. When it came time to find a dress I went to one bridal shop where I was treated exceptionally rudely when I told the consultant I would be getting married in two months. The bitch actually scoffed and snidely asked me if this was my second wedding.  I was twenty-three for fuck’s sake!

I was scorned. My eyes got huge and I turned to her and said, “Is this your first day?” and I walked out. At that point I grabbed my best friend who missed her calling as a personal shopper and off we went. First stop was Dillards’ formal wear department. We walked in and I had something white and sleek in mind. My best friend walked to rack and pulled down a size 4 white formal dress. I tried it on and it fit like a glove.

It was $110.

I bought it.

Start to finish in under twenty minutes. For real. This was the result:

I couldn’t have been more pleased, with the dress or the day.

I am not sure what my dad was thinking with the mustache. Forgive him, he too is visually challenged.

The marriage has been exciting, yeah, we’ll go with that word. I love my husband, he is my love, and even now, I know it’s not about the dress anyway.

Doesn’t it land in a pile on the floor at the end of the night anyway?

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