The Dress: Part 2

As a kid, I remember looking through my parents' wedding album and thinking how beautiful my mom looked in her gown and how handsome my dad looked in his suit.  My parents were married in 1969 and the clothes they wore at their wedding are currently in style and, in a good way, vintage inspired.  With my lack of stamina for shopping showcased in the previous post, I thought it would be fun if I tried on my mom's wedding dress to see if it would fit. 

My parents are into texting, we text more than we actually talk on the phone nowadays, so I recently sent my mom a text asking if I could try on her gown.  "Absolutely," she replied.  With the added, "I had to have the top let out a bit for my, you know, larger boobs, so I think it might work for you, sweetie."

A couple minutes later I found an e-mail from my dad with two photos of my mom on the day of their wedding.  A third photo was included of my mom sitting in the car holding a rose between her teeth, a reminder that even though my parents have had their marital troubles, my dad still really loves her.
I looked at the photos of my mom, she was only twenty-one when she married my dad, and I couldn't get over how youthful and happy she looked.

As a teenager, I wanted to be the opposite of all that my parents stood for and I fought them on everything.  I thought they were doing it all wrong and that when I grew up, I would do everything right.  I chose less than stellar guys to date, I hurled hurtful remarks at them, I screamed, I cried, I shut them out.  I had lost sight of the love they had for me, the love they had for each other and the rest of my family.  Now, at thirty-five, I can see my parents for who they really are; two people who love their kids more than anything, two people who did the very best they could.  Now, I want to do the same with my life.  I want to do the best I can for my future marriage and my future family.

Now, it only seems right to wear my mom's gown.  In a couple weeks I will make the trip home to see if me and my boobs fit into her wedding dress.  I will keep you posted!

The Dress: Part 1

A few weeks ago, I went with a good friend to look for my wedding dress.  We went to a funky boutique in Lawrenceville to see if I could find a colorful and fun dress.  I went through the racks, walked in circles, smelled candles, looked at price tags, felt overwhelmed by all the planning that would soon ensue for the event and I gave up.  This entire routine took less than 20 minutes to complete.  I’ve never been one to enjoy shopping and, in all honesty, I didn’t see anything that I loved. I may hate to shop but I want to love my wedding dress, I want it to fit my personality.  

I turned to my friend Lisa and said, “I think I’m good.  Want to go get a drink?”  Lisa, who wears adorable vintage outfits on a daily basis, was in her element and ready to help.  She suggested going to more shops and fully tackling the task.  But, I know Lisa really well, and I know that she loves margaritas just as much as I do, so I suggested instead that we cross the street and get a few pitchers of drinks.  Five minutes later, we were sitting at the neighborhood cantina enjoying our sangria and margaritas.  I felt like I had accomplished something, even if it was only a 20 minute shopping excursion, but at least it was something.