I told myself that I was going to wait until going to Utah to buy a dress. If you know me (and my religion) you know that modesty is of utmost importance to me. And finding a modest dress in San Antonio is not an easy task. So when my Maid of Honor, Amanda, asked me when she could take me dress shopping, I wasn't sure what to say. "Sorry, I don't want to go here. I want to wait to go in Utah." In the end, I decided to go. I could get an idea of what I wanted (shape, fabric, etc) and then find the dress of my dreams in Utah (with sleeves)!
We started the morning at David's Bridal.
Holy dresses.
It was really overwhelming. I had no idea where to start. It was a whirlwind of questions that I didn't know the answer to.
What shape are you looking for?
Ivory or white?
Do you like lace?
Straps or no straps?
Are you going to wear heels or flats?
How are you going to do your hair?
What size do you wear?
Heaven bless that best friend of mine. She just took over. I felt like a doll. She picked dresses and told the consultant what to get for me. Every dress she pulled off the rack was held up for me to give an opinion. "It's really pretty." The problem was that that was the answer to EVERY dress she showed me.
Except one.
One dress in particular she pulled off the rack made me say, "Eh, I don't know. It's not my favorite, but I guess it doesn't hurt to put it on, right?"
I discovered right away that I (surprisingly) loved the ivory color. It was much softer with my skin tone. I also discovered that lace-up dresses (corset backs) were the most flattering on my figure (for those of you who don't know, that means that it hid my fat the best).
Well, it just so happened that that eh, I guess dress was ivory and had a corset back (How could Amanda have possibly known before I tried anything on?!).
I loved it. Absolutely loved it.
There was just one problem. It's a strapless dress. Grrr. At this point, I remembered why I planned on waiting until I went to Utah.
We tried the dress on with several boleros (satin, lace, etc) and none of them seemed right. I was having a hard time picturing what the top was going to look like with a top to make it modest.
I needed a break.
We went to lunch and to another bridal shop.
Fail.
I hated it. All of it! So we went back to David's Bridal to put the dress back on. This time we had Mom meet us there so I could have her opinion.
Have you ever watched those bridal shows on TV? You know, the bride comes out and says "Yes! This is my dress!" and the mom cries. And everyone cries. And you just know it's the one?
Nope. Didn't happen.
My mom said, "It looks nice."
Really mom? That's all? The dress I'm in love with? That's the only reaction I could get out of you?
Boo.
I decided to hang the dress up and come back after my trip to Utah. That way I could have the best of both worlds, shop both places, and really make sure it was the best one for me.
And then the consultant dropped the bomb.
"This dress is on clearance and is our last one."
Boom.
I'd like to take a moment to apologize to the consultant and manager (and mom and Amanda) for the amount of time I stood there and wasted. I twirled. I tried on different boleros. I touched it. I took pictures. And more pictures. And then some more.
And then I did it. I said yes to the dress.
David's Bridal has a tradition when a bride purchases a dress. They give you a bell. You make a wish, and then ring the bell.
Oh there's the tears!
My tears, my mom's tears, and Amanda's tears. I even got a few tears out of the manager. But those tears were probably tears of relief to finally be rid of me.
I'm still not quite sure what I'm going to do with the top. Clearly I'm going to get a bolero, but at this point, I think I'll probably have one made to fit what I'm looking for. Lace maybe. And lined to keep it modest.
And that's a different beast I'll tackle later...
For now, I have a dress. It's nothing I wanted but everything I wanted all at the same time. It beautiful and unique and sexy. I feel amazing. And do I dare say that I look amazing too?!
I'm off to go stare at my dress.
