Weddingbee Blog

{image}

Last week I had my first dress fitting at David’s Bridal. When I walked into “the alterations department” I was a little nervous. Basically it was a big dressing room filled with other brides, their moms, and women with pins.

I was alone with my big poofy dress, crinoline and cowboy boots. I was shown a smaller dressing room and told to put on my gown. So I did… well I tried to.

(Did they really think I could zip it all the way up on my own?) So there I was, standing in my half-zipped wedding gown in the middle of a crowded room not knowing what to do next. Eventually, I spotted someone carrying a clipboard—a good sign! She directed me toward the mirror and told me to step onto the stage thing in front of it. I did. So there I was standing on a platform in the middle of a crowded room halfway into my gown. Honestly, I was really embarrassed. Everyone was staring at me. I assume they were wondering why I was holding up my gown instead of actually wearing it.

Finally, a seamstress came up to me to help with the zipper. She had it almost zipped up when she started yelling “I can’t get it to zip! I can’t even… you see? I can’t zip it! I don’t want to break it! It won’t zip!” Really, she was yelling at me. I felt so horrible. In a room full of people she was yelling at me. I know my boobs and I was not so surprised that it didn’t want to zip all the way up. I kept saying, “ok, ok” and she just kept yelling about how it wouldn’t zip.

When I ordered my gown they suggested I buy a size smaller than the one I had tried on. Apparently, the waist on the bigger one would have to be taken in. Well, the smaller one was too small in the boobage department. Not a big deal. Well, at least I didn’t think it was a big deal. Either you take in the waist or let out the boobs. The seamstress, on the other hand, made me feel like the biggest bride, wearing the smallest dress, in the world. I was beet red and sweating. I was so embarrassed.

So, they would let out the top. Problem solved. Then, she told me my dress was too long. When I tried it on the first time the head seamstress commented that the length was “perfect.” How come all of a sudden I would have to pay $75 to make my gown an inch shorter? I just told her “no thanks, I’ll look for different shoes I guess.” (I was wearing the same shoes I had been wearing all along.)

After I got myself out of my gown and back into my real clothes they told me that they needed my measurements for their records. After my fitting? With my jeans and jacket on? They haphazardly threw the measuring tape around me and shouted out the numbers to someone else in another room, behind a curtain. Maybe it was the Wizard of Oz. I assume the reason for the measurements is so that if your gown does not fit they can possibly blame the bride for gaining or losing weight. Or maybe at this point I was just being cynical.

Since then I have been so haunted by the words “IT WON’T ZIP!” that I wasn’t going to even write about my first fitting. Maybe buying a dress at a high end boutique would have been worth it after all. Maybe.

Did you have a traumatic dress fitting?