Going to a large building with shops aka a mall is equivalent to torture in my eyes. If someone took me hostage and wanted me to spill government secrets – assuming I had any – all they would have to do is threaten to take me to a mall. Probably the reason I didn’t want to be in the secret service. My youngest didn’t even know what a mall was until he was four and he didn’t learn it from me.
Today, I went to look for a dress for my upcoming “wedding” at that hideous building that shoppers refer to as a mall. I figured that sweat pants and flip flops weren’t going to cut it. Here is the deal, I am an online shopper. I absolutely hate perusing the mall and don’t get me started on those dressing rooms. First, they have those mirrors, then they hit you with that lighting that really brings out every flaw. I mean, it really doesn’t promote confidence about yourself and personally, I don’t think it is a helpful marketing tool. Plus, taking off my clothes in the privacy of my own home is horrific enough, so to do that in a dirty dressing room, um, no thanks. However, I did. I partnered with a friend who happens to shop like me……on a mission. We didn’t wander. We didn’t touch every single dress. We conquered it like ninjas. The dress was an unlikely pick. When my friend first found it, I was unsure at first glance. But the more I looked at it, the better I liked it. Now, the test was how many undergarments would be required for my figure to look flawless.
I put the dress on and I thought it was a mirage. Could someone have actually designed a dress that flattered my figure, sucked in all my excess, and made my butt look good? Well, yes they did. It is a miracle!!! And, to add to the bouncing blessings, I could breathe in it. Seriously, I felt like I won the lottery. Did you hear that? Yep, that choir of angels is going to town on the “Hallelujah” chorus.
As I was paying, the saleslady was making small talk and asking if there was a special occasion for this particular “miracle” dress. I told her my spouse and I were renewing our vows while in Spain. (Jesus, that sounds pretentious.) She smiled and asked if I was using a wedding planner there. (Umm…..isn’t that hilarious?) Yes, I am and Oprah is my maid of honor.
This is what happens when I have realistic expectations…..success, surprise, and pure astonishment, but just don’t look for me at that building with shops anytime soon.