My Mom Cries. Alot.

Last week, my mother and I randomly walked into a little bridal boutique to peruse the aisles and check on prices, so that I can know what to expect when it is time to buy. I was very surprised to learn that if you want a dress to be custom made for you, it can take up to six months for the dress to even come in. From there, it can take another several months to set up the bustle and the alterations. This blew me away. I was not planning on checking out wedding dresses until I was about six months out from my wedding. Of course, this got my Mom all fired up about going wedding dress shopping this past weekend. Remember that the big day is still FOURTEEN months away.

So Saturday morning, Mom, little sister (the maid of honor, of course) and myself headed on over to the first of a multitude of bridal appointments. I had an idea of what I was wanting (a halter with a straight lined skirt, nothing frilly or fancy) Since I had absolutely no idea where to start regarding my gown, I had the attendant pull about ten different dress styles to figure out what looked best on me, although I still had my idea.

The first gown I tried on was a simple dress with a longer train. I walked out to water works pouring down my Mom's face. It was funny to me because I looked horrible in the dress and yet, my Mom could not stop crying.

I trekked back with the attendant in tow. Which, let me tell you, is one of the most embarrassing things ever. I stood around in my panties while some random girl dresses me, as those damn dresses weigh well over twenty pounds. Ridiculous. I continued on with a few more gowns, in random styles. Well, on the fifth dress, I walked out and knew immediately that it was for me. Tears started pouring down my Mom's face yest AGAIN but I couldn't stop grinning. This was the one and I could not believe that I had found it. It was completely different than I thought that I would find. The dress was strapless & bustled, very elegant and very different than what I had imagined.

After much ooohing and awwwing by my Mom and sister, I finally asked the attendant how much the gorgeous dress was. Of course, it was much more than I wanted to spend as it was a Piccione, a couture line out of Italy. So I decided to think about it and go to my next bridal appointment.

I could not handle all the drama that was surrounding the purchase of the dress, so I went back right before they closed and paid for my dress so I would not have to attend any more naked fittings where my Mom would continue to cry.

**Oh the funniest event of the whole weekend happened as I was purchasing my dress. Another girl was in the process of trying on different styles of dresses. To be honest, she did not have the cutest figure. She was kinda lumpy. Well, she walked out in a dress that gave here a really cute figure and looked really good. My Mom and I both told her she looked gorgeous and she was beaming. Her mother, a woman who was definitely in need of gastric bypass by the way, told her daughter that she "didn't like it, the dress made her look like a sausage." Of course, my Mom had to interject and tell the girl once again that she looked beautiful. The bride's mom reiterated the fact that she looked "squished" and the situation escalated back and forth, until I grabbed my Mother's hand and told her it really wasn't her business.