Wednesday, April 21, 2010
They say every girl grows up dreaming of their wedding day. I can't say I did.
Life kinda happened to me at a very young age. My teen years, I was trying to live through a cancer diagnosis. College years, I was trying to get my head around the fact I wasn't gonna die. I was never a gushy dater... that I remember. I remember being overly sensitive about my weight. I remember dating people because they were fine for the moment but knowing this wasn't a forever thing. By all accounts I was committed... sometimes for a long time... but I can't honestly say I was INVESTED.
And then I met Jack. Oh my goodness, to say I'm in love just doesn't cut it.
I think that's what kept me focused for my one and only attempt at wedding dress shopping. The first dress, I got stuck in. It went on just fine, but it didn't want to come off. In fact, I asked for help. I swallowed any ounce of pride I may have had going in and offered to even get on the floor on my knees so the kid who was helping me could get some leverage to get the thing off of me. She was a KID - maybe 17 or 18-ish, having only worked there 5 months and knowing nothing about body type, or how to listen, and had no skills on how to discern that this was a potential tear dropping moment. She pushed at my fat as if stuffing a pillow into a stubborn pillowcase. She told me I should work on not sweating as this was making the dress stick to me more. And then the dress ripped. RIPPED.
I have no idea what other women feel like as they plan their wedding. I can tell you there's only most important detail... that Jack is there. Absolutely everything else is icing. I'm so excited for the wedding and I'm even more excited about being his wife.
No matter how much fat had to be unstuffed from that dress, regardless of how MORTIFIED I was in the moment, Jack loves me.
This is the stuff Shakespeare wrote about.
Oh, and I'm having my dress made by a lovely seamstress - Vogue Vintage here I come!