The Story of How I Came to Hate My Wedding Dress

OK. Its not as dire as I make it sound. But here's the deal; I really dislike my wedding dress. There is nothing wrong with it, its quite lovely. But maybe I chose too hastily. Maybe I was flush with cash as the time and anxious to buy any dress, as I knew I wouldn't have the money again.

We were on the road, coming off a McCain/Palin rally in Florida. We were on our way to another McCain rally in Sarasota. Marissa was driving and the entire time we were in Florida, Marissa was raving about this dress store in Ybor City called LaFrance. She went on and on, telling me that it was own personal heaven, I just didn't know it yet.

So, after driving for hours from Tallahassee (? maybe), we made a quick stop outside of Tampa in Ybor City. LaFrance was yet open for business that day, so we went and had some Cubans and waited for it to open. When we actually got into the store, I swooned. It is truly amazing. I mean this store was lined with vintage dresses and repros that are so gorgeous it was hard to process. Racks upon racks of play dresses, party dresses and wedding dresses.

It was my heaven! Due to an incredibly tight rally schedule, we had exactly 90 minutes to shop. I corralled the two shop girls, told them I had cash and 90 minutes to find a wedding dress and we went to work. Beaded gowns, tiny silk wrap dresses, heavily embellished lace atrocities were thrust at me. None of them worked.

I have a pretty sizable chest and have spent most of my life both trying to dress it appropriately and hide it at the same time. I knew I had to find a dress that fit the girls well. I kept coming back to this one very simple, silver-white silk gown. It was out of my budget and too small, but I just kept touching it, flip-flopping on whether to try it on for fun or stick with my budget and get on with it.

I grabbed, asked the shop girl if the had any more sizes. She went to look and came back with the last one in the store, the size I needed. I tried it on. It felt good. I blushed looking at myself in the mirror. I thought I was pretty, that it was lovely on, fit everywhere perfectly. Then I walked out of the dressing room and Marissa just said, "Whoa."

"That's your dress!", she gushed. "You need to get that one."

It was too much, I explained. And then shop girl #2 came over and explained that there was a sale at the store. 20% off all purchases to be exact. The shop girls were fervent Obama supporters and we had given them a bunch of merch and they were thrilled. Because of our kindness, they threw in an extra 10% off everything we were to buy that day.

This made my dress totally doable. I picked out a shirt for The Boy, chose some rad sunglasses and counted out the cash. I bought the dress off the rack in less than an hour.

And now. Well, now I hate the dress. I don't feel pretty in it. Its cut torments me. My grandma-fatty arms are visible. And its white for Christ's sweet sake (I am so pail that you can see most of my vascular system regularly.). What was I thinking?

I know I shouldn't complain. I should feel grateful for having been able to purchase something so lovely and dear. But I am not in love. I am not in love with the dress. I need to be.

How can I rekindle this relationship and save myself money and tears? Am I being a brat?