All my fellow Sex and the City lovers know what I’m talking about. That of course being, you ain’t kidding anyone in that white dress on your wedding day, you’re a dirty little hooker and you know it.
Okay, maybe not hooker, but there’s no shot any Mayan God would accept me as a sacrifice.
Sorry, mom. Get over it.
If you didn’t already guess it- today’s blog is going to be a male favorite. Something guys will be more interested in than pretending they know anything about horse-power in engines. What could that possibly be? It’s wedding dress shopping.
One of the tasks I had for my bridesmaids on my trip to Toronto was to find and buy the best fuckin dress to ever be on a human being. Thanks to asshole Pinterest, I had an idea in my head from a number of awesome pictures, then find out they don’t exist in any real-life shop. So I had to start from scratch.
Five stores and 30 dresses later, we nailed down what style I wanted, and found a shop who had a consultant that could handle our candid bluntness. My two awesome sidekick chicks started giving the lady some tips:
She wants something tight. It needs to be funky and almost weird. Bunching material on the butt would be good because she has no ass. Something low-cut is encouraged. Nothing a girl named Mary would wear. Nothing too blingy, this isn’t the BET awards. Nothing with covered shoulders, churches scare her. Basically, the less material, the better.
So it’s been decided. I’m walking down the aisle in a bikini.
With her help, we narrowed it down to four stunners. The first one was cool, spunky, and tight as a tiger. The girls’ reaction- mouth on the floor. Good sign.
The second one was sexy, silky, and feminine. The girls’ reaction- “it looks like a second marriage dress. Like you got married at a young age and it just didn’t work out, then you got all tight and fit and met a hot finance guy and now you’re not caring about the glitz, just the tits.”
The third one was backless, flowy, and light. The girls’ reaction- “it’s pretty and sweet but you’re not like that. You need something edgier. Also, flowy is for chicks who are trying to hide a few-monther.”
The fourth one was sparkly, so I didn’t bother trying it on and told her it was like she wasn’t even listening to us.
So I put #1 back on and melted. When I asked if this one is popular, she said “people aren’t brave enough for this dress”. Was that just a challenge?! No one calls me a coward! That’s it. I’m buying it.
On the last appointment to officially decide the winner, I brought along my Dad for the
money love and support, my brother in case my dad was feeling jewy for the love and support, and my sister’s boyfriend because torturing sibling’s boyfriends is just plain fun. And I think they did have fun because the expressions on their faces looked like they just downed a whole bottle of NyQuil and were about to tko. Bye-bye.
I’m sorry to every Mary reading this. It’s not you. It’s that your parent’s gave you the same name as the least fashionable females. The Mary with the lamb, the ‘virgin’ Mary with the son of God and we can’t leave out Mary Poppins, that homely hussy.
Well I hope you had fun shopping with us today. We looked everywhere for this, but just couldn’t find it….
High Five for NyQuil!
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