So, we all know that I am a royal pain in the ass. For those of you who don’t know- just ask my family and friends. I am BAD about follow through- and I procrastinate on everything that I am not obsessed with. Yep, a pain in the ass.
I know I shared about my love of weddings. I love weddings that I watch from my couch in my pajamas. I hate shopping for weddings. Two of my best friends have had destination weddings- and both of them led to Adventures in Shopping (Ironically, both stores shared a parking lot.) I was a nightmare. I admit it. I feel bad about it. However, it is actually funny… now.
So, my best friend in the entire world, my person, the one who has stood by me through thick and thin, okay… it’s Angela. She was getting married in Lake Tahoe. I was a bridesmaid. (Only because I love her dearly.) All I had to do was go to David’s Bridal and pick out a “tea length black dress with a watermelon sash.” The fabric and style did not matter. This is not hard, right? WRONG!!! This is so hard. And, I hate dresses and shopping. (Not so much anymore- but, at that time I really hated dresses.) Well, I kept putting it off, and putting it off some more. I would like to offer the excuse that I was extremely busy with grad school and working full- time. But, there is really no excuse. I just lost track of time.
Now, how do I put this politely? Angela was in a bit of a delicate situation. She was like 50,004 weeks pregnant! She had a lot on her mind. (And, she is probably going to kill me for putting this in my blog. You see, I am just trying to explain the stress the bride was under.) She was trying to plan a wedding in a place where NO ONE lived. And, to make matters worse her bridal party was scattered across the country. She had her lovely baby sister, her cousin from California, and her scatter-brained inconsiderate BFF in Lubbock. I, for one, had no idea what being a bridesmaid meant, and I think she probably got the short end of that stick. So, fast forward past the bachelorette party… to about 3 weeks- possibly even just two weeks before the wedding. I still had not bought my dress, I had no shoes, and needed make-up. Basically, I had to be forced into being a girl. So, Angela decided that she had had enough of my crap and flew on an airplane to Lubbock. (Yes, I am a little embarrassed.)
Yay!!!! I got to see my best friend! No, it probably was not convenient for her. Okay, now for the horrible part. We have to go to the store and try on dresses. Remember, it is not that hard. My only goal was not to look like a sausage. Dress after dress. Rack after Rack. It was awful. Finally, I found one that I figured I could probably stand to wear. It really was pretty cute.
And, that strapless bra really made my boobs front and center. We still had to go find shoes. Turns out that shoes were not that important. I kicked them off very early in the reception. But, look at the beautiful bride. Her wedding was perfect, sentimental, and sweet. I was so happy for her.
Fast forward about four years. My dear friend, and Work Mommy (Obviously, Shannon) was getting married in Cancun. Are you kidding me? I have to get a dress and a swim suit? Augh!!! What on earth am I going to do? So, I finally asked Tracy to come help me shop. On the agreed upon date, and a little before time, I was freaking out. So, I texted Tracy to tell her I would be a little late. (I needed some time to scope out the merchandise on my own, so that I knew in advance what I absolutely would NOT be trying on.) I went into the store, did a cursory round, and decided they had absolutely nothing I wanted to buy. So, I rushed out of the store, and was hurrying to my car, texting Tracy as I hustled that there was nothing there. All of the sudden, there is a Suburban bearing down on me, with a crazed woman behind the wheel honking at me and yelling for me to get in the car. Dammit. I was caught. There was no way she was letting me get away.
I was drug back into the store, kicking and screaming the whole way. (Okay, maybe I used a little artistic license there, but you can imagine… I am fairly certain that I was pouting, and trying hard not to.) We enter the store, and she starts racing around like a tornado, picking up dresses and ushering me back to the dressing rooms. The first dress I tried on, I immediately took off. She was outside begging to know how it looked, and telling me to come out so she could see, while I am huddled in the dressing room in my socks and underwear slowly rocking back and forth, wishing in vain for a natural disaster to come and save me. Nope, too itchy. Nope, too hot. Nope, too tight. Don’t they have stronger Spanx? I thought they were supposed to make you look thin!
Finally about four dresses in, Tracy has had enough. I have not let her see anything, and she somehow coaxes me into opening the door, and then elbows her way in. (She’s a tough cookie, that one.) I am frustrated, and trying to come up with viable excuses for not going to the wedding. Even though I desperately want to go! I was stuck in that old rut that I so often find myself in. I was about to let my hatred of my body keep me from doing the things I wanted to do.
Now, I do not know if Tracy sensed the desperation and despair coursing through my mind, but she somehow knew what to say. She finally found something that I would at least try on for longer than 5 seconds. It was actually a nightgown! Tracy and the sales girl called it loungewear. I am sorry, it is pajamas. (I have worn it out in public several times though, and I feel really cute in it.) No, it did not transform me into a size 6. (It turns out that is impossible.) We also found a swimsuit cover up that I could wear as a dress. Finally, we found that magic combination of a dress that is not clinging to your bulges, but somehow accentuates your curves. I felt like a girl, and I felt like I would not be embarrassed to be seen out in public. Success. All in all we ended up finding something like 6 dresses and 3 bathing suits that I was pretty comfortable in. And, we had decided which dress I would order for the wedding.
Tracy was a genius. She had figured out how to make me relax, and to just go with it. Now, was it totally embarrassing to be naked with my hot little friend? Ummm, yes. Would I do it again willingly? Probably not. Here is the important thing, Tracy took the time to make me laugh. She would be honest and say no when something did not work. She told me why something did look okay. She made it less about my body, and more about me. People like Tracy are few and far between. She is one of the most genuine people I have ever met. (If you think I do not have a filter, you should meet her.) She is one of the few people who can always make me right at home. I am not sure if it is her confidence, or what, but it is so refreshing.
Now, Shannon still had a reception planned. Oh, good grief. Now what was I going to wear? I had lost about fifty pounds at this point, and was a little more comfortable shopping. So, I went to the store alone. I managed to buy two dresses, and I still had my black dress that I had already bought. I hemmed and hawed my way through that shopping trip, and was even brave enough to consider all three dresses for the reception. I ended up in the black one. I felt comfortable, even if I was a little boobilicious.
So, what’s the point? I have obviously grown a little. I go shopping on my own, and leave with something besides jeans and skull t-shirts. I am finally turning into a girl. A real live girl. (It’s about time.)
I have finally figured out, a real friend is not so selfish to avoid celebrating her friend’s weddings because she feels fat. A real friend goes out and buys a dress, and shows up to the party. She dances and has a good time. She celebrates with the ones she loves. I am so glad that my friends have been patient while I found the confidence to be that kind of friend.