In earlier posts I mentioned that my daughter was getting married. One of the things that go with preparing for a wedding is to purchase the Mother of the Bride dress. Not an easy task; at one point I thought “I’m just going to show up in shorts, T-shirt and sandals”. But no I kept on looking and praying that the perfect dress would just appear.
Let me tell you a little bit about the wedding so that you will understand my pain a little bit better. The wedding is going to be in a beautiful outside location in early September in Las Vegas. Not sure if you have ever been to Vegas in September but it is still 100 plus degrees. The wedding planner has reassured me that we will only be outside for about 30 minutes so it shouldn’t be too bad. Keeping all this in mind I began my search.
When I have to do any searching I usually start on the intranet. I spent hours and hours looking at dresses in every view imaginable and in every color. I found nothing that even remotely looked like something I would wear. So I decided to head to a couple of stores to see what was out there. OMG what a joke this tip was. I couldn’t find anything.
My last hope was a bridal shop. As I walked in I told the sales woman what the occasion was and that it was in September so it would be hot. She took me over to the Mother of the Bride dresses. As I stood there going through each one I kept thinking to myself “add a large pocket book, put my hair in a bun, add nurses shoes and I’m Aunt Bee”, oh lord help me. I guess the look on my face was enough to convince the sales woman that I wasn’t interested in any of them. She finally suggested a special occasion dress. She pulled a few out for me to try on. The first one that I put only needed some flowers in my hair and I could have passed for a flower child from the 70’s. I was starting to give up and then I saw the dress. I asked to try it on. She only had it in lime green, I should say puke lime green, but at least I could see how it looked on me. I fell in love with it. So I ordered it in lilac.
I get a call that my dress is in. I set an appointment for alterations because unless I grew about six inches it was going to be way too long. I arrive at my scheduled appointment, put my dress on with my shoes, and walked out of the dressing room. The seamstress is standing behind me looking at the dress. She tells me we need to take in the top, not something most women want to hear but it could have been worse. She then starts rubbing my butt telling me that in her native county of Hungry the men there like their women with junk in their trunk. She was rubbing it as though she was hoping that a genie was going to magically appear. I kept thinking “unless you are buying me dinner do not rub my butt; that is reserved for my husband”. She soon got back to the business at hand of pinning my dress and making the alterations. Boy was I glad when that appointment was over.
I have since picked up my dress and I’m very happy with the way that it turned out. So I guess getting my butt rubbed was worth it as long as my dress looks good. After everything that I went through trying to find the perfect dress I did learn that if I’m ever looking for a new husband I’m heading to Hungry.
