Sooo I picked up my supposed wedding dress on Saturday... seriously exhausting. Apparently, when you get your dress fitted, you have to go THE shoes to go with THE dress for THE wedding. Anyone who knows me knows how much I HATE shoes. My feet make it impossible to like them. They're ugly, wide, and flat. They remind me of a duck's foot with Mr. Peanuts for each little(but long) toe. We ending up going to EVERY store at the mall looking for THE shoes. Today MY feet hurt. I obviously need to lessons in being a bridezilla, but I don't have the time for that. What I've learned, though, is that an easy-going bride is worse than a bride that knows exactly what she wants. Everyone is always asking what you want EXACTly for THE things that will be remembered for your entire life. Geez louise. I just wanna be married!
I've been quite a douche bag to my family as of late. Especially with this wedding business. Besides having this blog as an outlet, I really keep to myself and I'm not very open to the opinion of others. In my head, all of this wedding stuff can be easily done, and we can be happy, but in reality, it's a pretty hard business. Feelings get hurt, disagreements happen, and when you think it's no big deal (nbd) you're really letting other people down. As much as it's about you and your future spouse, it's supposed to be about your family, too. As hard as it is for me to let them in on it, it's the way it's supposed to be. But let me be honest, I just want to be married. We're already a family! I'd just be happy with signing the papers and calling it a wedding. Thank goodness for sisters who are extreme Type A's. When this is over I'll have some relief.
On a lighter note, I have a funny story to tell about getting my dress fitted. It all starts with the bra fitting. Keep in mind I just had a baby 6 months ago, and I hate my body right now. I somehow forgot where I was going and wore maaaybe the oldest bra imaginable. I also decided to wear my bodyshaper, because I have a few trouble areas that I hate. Aaaand I of course don't bring a strapless bra with me, because, why would I? So I pretty much get naked for this lady I don't even know, while she judges my little assets. Kill me. Later, I have to go all around the mall in my bodyshaper, which is making me sweat like crazy, and I have to pee. Worst feeling ever. So then, I put the dress on for a second time, and the very Russian seamstress was trying to figure out how to fit the dress to my anorexic frame. We are, of course, trying to figure out how to squeeze in the top. My mom asked if they can just take in the back.... the Russian's response? "Problem not in the back, nice and snug. Just empty in the front. We need to put something there." Riiippppp. Thanks, lady, for calling me out for my little boobies in front of all these people who are coming into the dressing room to look at my be-a-utiful dress.
Did you know: Smarter people have more dreams? The higher your I.Q. the more youdream
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