Last night we went back to David’s Bridal. Oh, David’s Bridal, why do you and I never quite get along? Is it the airbrushed matching families in your giant window ads, your oh-so-hetero marketing, despite the legalization of same-sex marriage in both MA and NH, or the fact that every time we show up your employees seemed 1. perplexed by us (two dresses? both for the bride? confusion), and 2. annoyed that we don’t know where to go, despite the fact that they never told us? Perhaps a combination of all of the above.
We were told to go back for our dress pickup at 8pm last night, so we did. We thought ahead enough to bring our shoes – maybe they would want us to try them on? It was called a pickup, and while last time they mentioned specifically that we should bring our shoes and our undergarments for the fitting, this time they told us to bring the pink slip with our info on it, and that was it.
So we arrive, and, as usual, the staff are annoyed at us for looking around and not knowing where to go. Thanks DB’s staff, you’re so sweet! We make our way through throngs of wedding parties – apparently Wednesday night is a big night to find your wedding dress – back to the alterations area, where someone comes to help us pretty quickly. She’s blond, cute, upbeat, and cannot for the life of her figure out which one of us is Bird and which one of us in Turtle, nor how to pronounce our names. This is sort of a theme for the rest of the evening. I spend a good period of time worrying that they will actually alter my dress to fit Turtle, and then we’re really in a bind.
So they give us our dresses, we put them on (should have brought that bra, oops.)…and I bulge. That is to say, my eyes bulge, because I can’t breathe. Really, my dress is so tight around my ribs/waist that I am physically in pain. I have Turtle unzip it until it absolutely must be zipped again. And then – and then! – the alterations woman seems offended. “We just took it in an inch and now you want us to take it out! Did you have dinner before you came here?!”
To which I, of course, respond, “Yes, I did have dinner, and I do plan to eat on my wedding day!” One meal should not make my dress asphyxiate me.
So then our alterations expert has to go get her manager, because apparently there might be more charges, and it’s all probably because I didn’t wear my bra, and they keep implying that I’ve gained weight. A little part of my is afraid that I have, but before that I lost 8 pounds, and really a pound or two would not make my ribs fat. Ugh. So I’m feeling guilty about being the “wrong size”, my dress is ridiculously uncomfortable, and they’re talking about charging us more money. Where’s that nice woman who was so happy for us last time we were there? Can we have her back?
And in the meantime… Turtle hates her dress. Not really my story to tell, but we are now on a 4-week countdown to “Woo hoo let’s get married” and “Quick let’s find a dress you like!” If we don’t find one, she’ll wear the one she has…
At one point last night, the alterations manager said, “It’s a wedding dress. It’s not supposed to be comfortable.” And I thought to myself, “If someone had told me that six months ago, I’m not sure I would have bought one.” My suit is going to be comfortable. If we hadn’t already paid for all this stupid dress stuff, I would just scrap the whole thing.
I think maybe I’m approaching wedding zen? As more things are getting not-done or going not-quite-right, I can let go a little… yes?
What would you do with four weeks down and dress dissatisfaction on the rise? If you did this all before, did you have the most wonderful dress-fitting experience ever? If you work at David’s Bridal, how are you going to make us uncomfortable little lesbians happy again?