For a moment there, I let myself get sucked into the fantasy of being a bride.
I tried on what must have been the 20th wedding dress in under a month and for the first time, didn’t feel like it overwhelmed me or that it swallowed me in a massive skirt of tulle, lace, organza and other materials.
No, this dress has the perfect amount of detailing without being over the top and the material felt easy breezy perfect for the planned outdoor wedding.
Then, I put on the cutest headband with enough sparkle to complete the look. And I was in love.
But is it my dress?
The bubble was burst when the saleslady (who so far is the only one to not mention my weight “issues”) brought up the price, double my budget.
I want to lie and say no, I’m fine but I’m not. I loved that this dress felt like it was made for someone who never really wanted a massive wedding with a hoop skirt poofy dress. I loved that it felt fresh and new and felt that my fiancé would love seeing me in it.
But the price doesn’t justify anything. After all, this is buying not renting.
And the last thing I want to do is buy a dress that I would wear only once in my life then hang in my closet for all of eternity. I would much rather rent and reduce the clutter in my future home. This is not a dress that can be repurposed even if its made shorter.
Where would I wear a former wedding dress? To a wedding?
And for the first time, I felt a bit down after leaving a store because what I had feared so much had finally happened.