April & Sarah Go to David’s Bridal

February 24, 2010 at 9:09 am | Posted in Married Life | 18 Comments
Tags: Chili's, David's Bridal, Running of the Brides, Stressed Bride, Wedding Dress, Wedding Planning

I have a completely irrational fear of big white wedding dresses. There. I said it. My name is Sarah and I’m addicted to PJ’s (which I refer to as “lounge wear” before 8 pm, but I digress). Wedding dresses inspire in me the kind of irrational fear that keeps people up at night, except instead of imagining natural disasters, I have crazy visions of myself as an over-heating marshmallow in chiffon.  And I get short of breath imagining squeezing into some bizarre taffeta torture device that designers call a bodice. Shudder.

Anyway, my faithful co-blogger decided that it was time for me to face my fears and begin the insanity. I’m not talking a full Running of the Brides immersion; I’m talking a teeny tiny toe-dip into the word of organza. And so we went on a mission to procure a bridal catalog from that ubiquitous chain, David’s Bridal. 

First mistake: we went on a Sunday and the store was completely packed with spotlight-seeking brides, emotionally needy bridesmaids, stress-crazed mothers of the bride and even cranky flower girls. It was a torrent of lady-emotions in the lair of gowns.

Second mistake: dealing with nincompoops. When we asked for the catalogue we were seated at a registration table and that’s where the nonsense began. Due to my irrational fear, we decided to use our nom de plume instead of our real names. The bride, “Sarah Wilderrol,” would be marrying her true love “Alex” in “November” and my “matron of honor” was “Alex’s sister, April.” Well, the lovely woman signing us in translated that into April and I preparing for our same sex marriage. We are still scratching our heads on that one, but apparently poor “Alex” was inadvertently jilted at the catalogue registration desk.

Third mistake: believing the hijinks would stop there. To calm my nerves, April and I decided to stop off for apps and an adult beverage at the neighborhood Chili’s. Apparently we looked like gals seeking sales because when April asked for a Sam Adams, the waitress scornfully informed her that it “wasn’t on special” and would be more than $1.99, in fact, even more than $2.99. As gainfully employed professionals and hometown celebrity bloggers, trust me when I say that if we order it, we can pay for it. At Chili’s. Which is delicious, but totally affordable.

So here’s to the friends (and life-partners, apparently) that help us get through both the day-to-day stresses and the irrational fears. To the gal willing to pay $4.69 for a beer as she watches her friend gradually calm down over a ginger peach margarita. And to our dear reader(s) for going easy on cheap, crazy gal pals like us

Cheers,

Sarah