Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Blubber, foof and minions.

I went to David's Bridal on Saturday. So there's that.

I also think I had my very first panic attack.

My Mom came up on Saturday to visit and go shopping. I think she realized that I'm not going to go to the bridal shop unless it's by force. That explains her desire to make David's Bridal the first stop of the day.

She's so sneaky.

For some reason, I agree to go. I may have been drunk at the time. It's always a possibility.

Let me explain something. It's not that I'm nervous about getting hitched. I have no doubts about MB and our life together. I just have a lot of doubts about fitting my fat ass into a wedding dress and the thought of it makes me sweat.

So, we walk into the store and are instantly greeted by the greeter. I don't know her actual title, but I'm calling her the greeter. She is cheerful and friendly and everything I ever wanted in all those nasty, nose picking, couldn't care less what aisle the peas are in Walmart greeters.

Anywalmartsucks, the greeter assigns me a consultant. I don't remember the consultant's name because I am too distracted by the rows upon rows of white poof and foof that fill the store.

For the love of taffeta, this is the most foof I've ever seen in my entire life!

As I'm scanning all the foof, I also notice the other brides and their bridal minions. There are swarms of them back by the dressing rooms. They are all poised in front of the pedestals which are sadistically placed in front of rows upon rows of mirrors.

Not a single bride or minion was over a size 6.

I think this is where my face started to lose color.

The mere thought of hauling my foof covered fat ass up onto one of those pedestals for all the tiny brides and tiny minions to see was enough to make me want to barf into the nearest ball of tulle.

Then, I would've owned a lovely barf covered ball of tulle for which to wear on my day of hitching. Not exactly the look I was hoping for.

So, the consultant pulls out a catalog and instantly flips to the fat girl section. Immediate points deducted. But also points added for her ability to do it without missing a beat. A less paranoid fattie probably wouldn't have even noticed.

But I did. I'm like a ninja.

She asks me what I like and I tell her 'as plain as possible'. No foof. No poof. No train. No tulle. Do you have some sort of taffeta snuggie that I could just wear over my jeans? That would be perfect.

She didn't have anything like that.

She did have some very cute simple dresses that I actually liked. We walked through the aisles of foof as she pulled some of them out and made me touch them.

Because how the fabric feels is super important when I have to rip it off of my body because I managed to stuff my fat ass into it but there is no way in hell I'm getting out of it without the use of a rescue truck. I think the paramedics will appreciate the softness of the fabric while they extract me.

You're welcome boys.

I had fondled my fourth dress when she asks me if I want to try anything on.

Mom was ready. Me? Not so much.

I was able to make eye contact with the consultant as she asked me the question again. I'm pretty sure I had lost all color in my face. I was also swooning a bit and seeing stars. I was also on the verge of tears.


I wanted to curl up in the fetal position amongst the foof, awaiting my minions to bring me some whiskey.

However, I haven't officially chosen my minions yet and I wouldn't dare drink the required number of whiskey shots to cope with this particular situation while amongst the foof. See the barf comment above.

Thankfully, the consultant could sense my panic. Extra points for her. She totally understood that I just wasn't ready. She got it.

I even felt confident enough that she got it to begin rambling incoherently about not being at my goal weight yet and not wanting to shove my blubber into such beautifully soft foof in front of the judgy judgy minions who looked like they could use a freakin cheeseburger or two.

She had no response for that. She just smiled and suggested we make an appointment for an evening when it's a little more private.

She didn't have midnight appointments. I asked.

So, I didn't try on any dresses but I did end up with homework. Wtf?!

I'm supposed to gather my bridal minions, pick out some styles from the website and call the consultant back so we can make an appointment.

I can totally do shots while I search online, so I think it's going to be okay.

Do you have any advice for me, peeps? How do I get past the whole blubber into tulle anxiety?


  1. Oh, honey. I wish I had tips. Instead, I'm now sitting here fervently hoping Chebbar never DOES pony up a proposal. O_O

    The evening appointment sounds better. Maybe another option you could look into (once you have idea (via websites and those 20lb $50 bridal mags) of what you're looking for) a custom-made dress? I know a woman who had AMAZING luck with an Etsy seller, believe it or not (and said woman wasn't a size 6 in need of a cheeseburger, FTR). I know it's not *quite* the same as a wedding dress, but I paid a family member to tailor-make my grad (prom?) dress and it's unbelievable to have a dress that fits you perfectly.

    I'mma go take one for the team and eat some anxiety ice cream on your behalf. xoxo

  2. Holy shit! I could have written this post almost exactly two years ago. I think I spent all of two minutes in David's Bridal before I lost it and had to leave.

    I ended up buying a white sun dress at Ross and used it as my wedding dress. My fat ass didn't quite stand out as much at Ross :)

    Sorry, I don't have any suggestions to help you out. Except to maybe carry a brown paper bag with you - helpful for hyperventilation and/or barf.


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