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The niece and I went wedding dress shopping yesterday -- the horror, the horror.
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We were greeted at the door by perky young Tamara, whose first question to me was "What brings you in to our store today?" to which I answered, "Oddly enough, I'm getting married and need a dress." Confused by my sarcasm and lack of girlish enthusiasm at purchasing said dress, Tamara paused and then told me she rilllly wanted to help me find a rilllly perfect dress. I told her I would rather look myself and would let her know when I found dresses I wanted to try on. I found a grand total of two dresses (out of the perhaps 200 they had in my size) that I would want anywhere near my bodily person. Rhinestones, pink beads, and strapless dresses - which make me look like a linebacker - seem to be in vogue this wedding season.
I tried on the first dress and was led by my new friend Tamara over to this huge mirrored/platform area so that I could spin like a pretty-pretty princess and ogle myself. (I was unimpressed with what I saw.) At this point another saleswoman came over to ooh and aah at me...and when I told her quite flatly that I didn't like the dress, she turned her attention to the niece, asking her if she was going to be in the wedding and suggesting she look at some bridesmaids gowns. The niece deflected nicely by telling the saleswoman "No, I'm not in the wedding; I don't want to have to be sober for that long." Touche, Miss Katie.
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The second dress was better and if I may just go back and buy it. The length is good (which is a tough thing to get for a somewhat height-challenged gal like myself), the style is simple and the price was very reasonable. Also, it would take a minimum of altering to make it fit correctly. The less muss and fuss, the better.
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The whole experience felt surreal -- I just can't cop the blushing bride attitude, especially with hyperactive salespeople. Getting married is such a deeply personal thing to me -- all of this surrounding hoo-hah just makes me want to puke.
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