My mom is all about making memories. Anytime, everywhere, in whatever way possible. So, on an annual girls’ day out during my “still single” days, she adamantly suggested we go into a bridal shop “just for fun”. Equally adamant, I responded, “NO WAY! As soon as I walk in there, they’ll think I’m a bride and it’ll be awkward.” But she insisted.
Unsurprisingly, the second we entered the store, a clerk bounded over to greet us. “So? When’s the big day?!” With a twinkle in her eye, Mom whispered, “Just play along!”
“We haven’t set a date yet,” I truthfully informed the saleswoman. She proceeded to ask questions about my style, likes, dislikes, budget, etc. I managed to keep my answers vague except the style ones—simple, possibly pearls, and definitely no lace or bling.
As I spoke, the saleswoman nodded rhythmically while her polite smile became a giddy grin. “I have the perfect dress for you, but it just arrived this morning and I haven’t had time to unwrap it yet.” She urged me to wait, so I did.
When she brought it out, Mom and I both gasped. Winter white satin in a simple sleeveless design with an empire waist, just enough pearls to add a hint of glamour, and not a stitch of itchy lace or blinding bling. It was indeed the perfect dress for me in every way.
Naturally, Mom and the clerk expected me to try the gorgeous gown on, but I really didn’t want to. Unemployed and broke, with no idea when I’d get engaged to be married, I simply had no justification for putting on a bridal gown that didn’t belong to me. But both women refused my refusal.
Read the rest of this story at Calla Press. I’ve waited 25 years to share it with the world. It’s one of my favorite stories to tell, and I’m thrilled to finally share it with you!
