Maybe I am going about this idea of finding my Prince all wrong. Maybe if "I try it on: he will come". Seems like a very sane and practical idea.
So given it was mid week figured there would be no problem with just turning up for dress shopping. Plan worked. I was welcomed with open arms and only blushing bride in the store. In fact four stores in all.
I said my name was Toni (well I couldn't say Muriel could I?) I was getting married in the spring of next year and my man's nickname was PC (said it was because he was computer nerd but we know the real meaning!)
I felt like a Princess, well that was until I had to try them on. Felt like I was in battle. Dresses wanted to torture me with corsets, petticoats and thousands of laces. Big boobs constantly got in the way and need stern talking to if they are to attend the wedding. I don't want any Janet Jackson moments. Ladies in store didn't seem worried, apparently once strapped in dress there is no chance of popping out (or breathing).
Question is how on earth is my husband expected to get me out of the dress on wedding night when I can't even follow the directions?
Imagining two of us sitting on edge of bed looking defeated and wondering if it was a sign that maybe it wasn't meant to be. Must remember to buy a white clutch bag that is big enough to fit scissors.
Couldn't quite make an album of all dresses I tried on, like Muriel, (copyright blah blah blah) so have nothing to show for experience.
Actually not entirely true. Have dress in cupboard now.
Buy it and he will come.
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