Now I know you have all been on the edge of your seats waiting for Betty Bridesmaid to return from her quiet hiatus from the wedding world (I mumble this in my most sarcastic tone...). Betty had to take a lil break since the Martin/Wallace carnival/wedding. I came out of retirement today as I made my way to the "Dress Shop" to see Molly. Now let me just say that Molly could possibly be an alteration/sewing/genius wizard. Just throwing that out there before I get dramatic. So today was the day. I had been staring at the dress knowing it needed to go down to get operated on so that it can perform to its fullest potential come June 19. However every time I looked at it, I became a little queesie. Can't explain it, but it happens every time. If I were a wedding Dr. I would most likely diagnose me with Bridesmaidenship anxiety level 10. Just to be on the safe side. Anyways as I pulled on to King St. I felt my stomach get a little weak. Then I forgot to breathe for a bit once I made eye contact with the shop. I threw my car into the loading zone and tried to collect myself before I went in. I may have shot up a few prayers. Why you ask? No flippin idea, but I was freaking out for some reason. So I go in (against my better judgement..) only to find a college aged boy. Great. A boy. Just what I wanted to see/talk to about my dress....Shoot me now...I immediately panic and start rambling about the weather. He continues to stare at me. I now turn red and stutter. He's still staring. Finally I say: "You really want to work here? For real? Why? Oops. I didn't mean that in a mean way..." He continued to stare at me. Finally I remember the lady's name and ask to see her. Now I thought I would just drop the ol dress off and come back in a week or so to pick it up. Clearly I have never been altered before. I could tell things were going down hill. FAST. She threw me into the dressing room and told me to suit up. In a nice way...So I cuss inside my head dreading putting it back on bc I knew it was right yet....Then I tell her I'm done, not knowing what comes next and she barges right on in. Clearly she does not know my unique modesty rules. Megan-knows them very well. Then she proceeds to tell me she needs to measure something so I can go ahead and take the dress off. Meanwhile she is standing there. No way am I taking that thing off with her right there. We just met. My gosh...Finally I ask her if she needs to be in there while I change. She takes the hint and steps out. Right about now my surpressed nervousness decides to make its way out. Does this woman, whom I hardly know expect me to stand there naked. AIN'T GOING TO HAPPEN....I bargained with her. All of the unmentionables + tank top are staying on for the measuring. I'm not sure, but she may possibly hate me....I did try to charm her with my wisecracks...didn't really help. Here is where I should mention that getting measured is really not that fun. In fact I think I strongly dislike/loathe it. I mean who wants some lady seeing you half naked, measuring you and then making small noises that you aren't sure whether they are positive or negative...Sign me up-NOT. So after what seemed like hours (1 min regular people time) she finished and allowed me to get dressed. Thank you Lord. I mean this lady now knows me a lil too well if you can smell what I'm stepping in here...I made my exit out of the dressing room and was itching to get out of there. She told me something, but I never really heard her bc I was so ready to get the stink out of there. On my way out I said bye to the boy at the front desk. Again, he stared at me. I didn't quite have my head on straight and I may or may not have run into the door. By may or may not I mean that I completely smacked into the front door. And guess what?? The boy was there. Staring. I quickly laughed about it and ejected myself from the store. Now I am 23%-76% traumatized. All for the glory of marriage......
Watch out for glass doors,
Betty B
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