The Search

Driving to the first bridal salon on Saturday, I turned to my mom & sister and said, "If there aren't tears, ladies, it ain't the dress for me...got it?" We laughed, knowing this cliche' is probably just some made up future-wives tale. I mean, how many people really cry the second they find their wedding dress?!

We walked into the first place and I was sadly underwhelmed. I went straight for the bridesmaids dresses, which is never a good sign for a bride-to-be. My sister finally diverted me over to the three walls of white poufiness, where I reluctantly started looking through the options. I whined. I let out lots of "Ugh's" and "Ick's." My mom pointed out several options that made me diplomatically say, "Yeah, it's nice but I don't like (this element)..." I finally found three dresses to try on and went back to the dressing area. Turns out there is only one area with a big mirror and everyone was about to see Amy's ASS. And boobs (I'd brought my own strapless bra). Ahem.

The first one was beautiful, a real contender. The second was gorgeous in a completely different but equal way. My sister took photos and we discussed lace and fit. I was starting to get into the spirit of things! No tears were shed, but overall I left happy, information in hand.

The second place my sister heard about from a friend. We walked in. We walked out. *SHUDDER*

The third place was nice, but I spent more time whining about how HEAVY the dresses were on the racks - in their clear plastic-zippered bags - then I spent trying on said dresses. I finally found one I liked, tried it on and instantly took it off. I'd had just. about. enough.

With a half-hour left until the last place closed, we rolled into the parking lot and I vowed to be more open-minded. Upon walking in, we were asked to take off our shoes before entering the dress area. The ladies were instantly helpful and pointed out options based on what I told them I was looking for. I decided upon three choices, one of which I simply grabbed because I liked the lace.

The first was amazing and my mom was almost sold. The second was beautiful, but just not "me." We went back into the dressing room and my mom and sister helped put the last dress over my shoulders. This dress, a tank style, was the only one I tried on that wasn't strapless; as soon as they got it on me, I said, "Ugh, get these sleeves OFF of me" and promptly removed my arms from them and tucked them into the bodice.

Out to the three-way mirror I went. Stepping up on the pedestal, I couldn't help but look down and admire the lace. I looked up and instantly got goosebumps. I was given a hand mirror to better see the train and as I looked back into the full-length mirror again, I got tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat, and excitedly announced, "I LOVE THIS DRESS!!!" Turning around, I was met by my sister's red face, her own tears threatening to fall. My mom jumped up from the couch, tears running down her face. We all met into a three-way hug, laughing and sobbing. The seamstress even had tears in her eyes. Feeling a bit silly, I blurted out to the sales lady, "I might LOOK twelve, but I'm much older...it's taken me a LONG time to have a reason to cry over a damn dress!" We were promptly handed tissues and told that the sleeve issue was a quick and simple fix. I was sold.

I get choked up thinking about it even now, if you want to know the truth. I honestly never thought I would have this kind of reaction to fabric and thread. I guess what "they" say really is true. Still, I like to think it's not about the dress and more about the fact that finding the one that is so "you" makes it more easy to envision yourself on your wedding day. In the vision I had, I looked ethereally pretty and happy, which is exactly what I wanted.

For those of you who wish you could see a photo of the dress, guess what? It's quite a bit like the dress I raved about here. LOVE!!