It's already March...almost April. Eeeks. It seems like just yesterday Alec was dragging me down to the park to propose (codename: take Maia on a diggedy-dog walk). As always, here is a recap of a process that I do not wish on my worst enemy.
Ah, yes. The dress. Tens of pounds of lace, tulle, organza, and other socialist French-y words that let me (and my wallet) know that the menu for the next couple of months is ramen noodles. Ever since I was a wee little Asian, I wanted to go try on a dress at the House of Fashion on J Street. I have never been in the store but from the street you can see a giant winding staircase and I wanted my movie star moment on that sucker. I checked Yelp! for reviews on the place and very quickly realized that I wanted to stay the hell away from this bridal hellhole. One of the reviewers talked about how the wedding consultant told her that she was fat (she's a size 10) and it wouldn't hurt to get on the treadmill. Crazy bitch making minimum wage say whaaattt? You expect me to give you a Grover Cleveland for a heavy ass dress AND endure your verbal barrage of fat comments? Pass. What's next? David's Bridal. Well, once again I have no first hand experience with David or his bridal staff. First impressions- why is a man in charge of women's wedding dresses? Why can't it be Darcy's Bridal? Stupid men's world. We can't even get wedding dresses. Next, they are going to start advertising Tom's Tampons and Peter's Pads... For all your feminine hygiene needs, choose Tom's Tampons because when you think of tampons, you think of Tom... Popped up David's Bridal reviews and wouldn't you know...their store sucks Kathy Griffin's ballsack too. Old man farts! Why is a decent non-psychologically damaging bridal shop so hard to find? It seems like Joan Rivers and her crew of malformed plastic surgery leather handbags have taken over the bridal industry.
I have been dreading getting the dress for months. I have been terrified that I was going to look overly...rotund in the dress and the reviews of the bridal shops were definitely not helping at all. I also am way too pragmatic for my own good and had no desire to spend more than $600 on a dress that I was more than likely going to stain, rip, or destroy on the wedding day. Get your collective heads out of the gutter, folks! Food, dirt, bugs, and nails have a tendency to gravitate towards me and destroy anything bit of clothing that I treasure and cherish. Plus, other than Jessica Simpson and Ivanka Trump who wears their wedding dress after the wedding? I would (and will) wear my dress after the wedding at random points in my life just to mess with people. I plan on having fun with it. Trips to Walmart and Home Depot encased in a layer of makeup will supply me with enough social awkwardness and humor to get me through the winter because that season is especially solemn? So here I am, trying to figure out how to Asian my way out of purchasing a horrifically expensive dress while at the same time trying to preserve my already frail ego. Chris and I are not particularly traditional, so should I just go with a party dress? It will cut down on the cost and I could wear it over and over again. Well, at least until that fateful nail or not yet dried paint ruins it. I went online and looked at Nordstrom's selection of dresses...nice...uck...too booby...not booby enough...too Christian...too MILFY... When I found out that they sell wedding dresses. Only problem was that they weren't available in store. I crossed my fingers and prayed to Gaga and ordered the dress. When it finally arrived, it sat on the table unopened for four days. I wanted it to be the right dress so bad that I was terrified about the prospect that it wouldn't fit or look halfway decent on me. One night, I lady-balled up, walked into the bathroom and tried on the dress. It fit. It worked. I looked...good. Asian lady in a white wedding dress say whhhaaattt? One of my mom's students said that whenever she is buying a dress for an event, she purposely looks like a steaming pile of Seacrest and if she looks good, then she knows she is going to look smoking for the day (with the help of makeup, tanner, push-up bras, etc). That night, I looked like the swamp creature yet in that dress I looked good. Crap. All this egalitarian gender role socialization and here I am looking in a mirror about to cry because I am in a white dress. I have been in a white dress before but I haven't ever felt like this before. Crazy. Who knew that deep down I was a girlie girl. Ok, so maybe not a girlie girl but a girl that doesn't completely make fun of the girlie girls. I'm still not wearing pink...but I will admit that I got "the" dress.