Living large.

Chickadees, it’s a beautiful day.

And still the weekend, thank God.

This morning, after a night spent drinking sweet tea vodka with friends (delicious, by the way), JW and I were up early, because he was racing in the 10k Run for the Zoo in Lincoln Park.

I headed to the finish line to check him out (also, Amy, I think I might have caught you at the finish, but you were moving too fast for me to be sure), and once I collected the weary, triumphant racer, I headed downtown for my first of three wedding dress fittings.

I got downtown about 45 minutes early, at which point I realized Macy’s didn’t even open until the time of my appointment, so I headed to grab a bagel and sit quietly for a minute.

Once I got word that Ky and JD had made it downtown, I headed over to Macy’s to meet them.

I got exactly one block before I realized I had left my wedding shoes behind, and so I booked it back over, picked them up, and headed back to my appointment.

Nothing wrong with starting off on a sweaty foot, right?

Anyway, the bridal appointment was good, all things considered. The dress was beautiful, if not eight sizes too large.

I put on my size 20 gown, and the alterations woman looked at me and said,

“Why is this dress so big?”

Lady, I wish I knew. I just did what the saleslady told me to do.

For a brief moment, I was afraid she would say that she was sorry, but unfortunately, I was going to have to wear the dress as a mumu, since there was nothing to be done for me.

I cursed myself for being talked into a size 20 dress.

She tsked at me and said “When did you order this dress?” as if perhaps I had gone through some kind of aggressive weight loss, and wasn’t telling her about it.

I explained again that I had been ordered to purchase this size.

A lot of work, she tsked at me and said.

I mostly just stood there and sweated.

Especially when she then demanded all of my money in return for pulling apart the dress and making it into something that will fit me.

She then insisted I come back, in a month, on a week day, before 5:00 PM.

I said sure, not knowing what else to say in this scenario.

Weddings are weird things, my friends.

And don’t let anyone tell you any differently.

 

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Filed under Chicago, Reflections, Wedding

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