Okay. Show of hands.
Who of you out there has ever dreaded going to try on jeans? Because, you know, they just aren’t going to fit. Because maybe you just moved and you don’t feel safe running at night, plus it keeps just being 10:00 pm, even though you’re pretty sure it should be 5:30, but it’s not, and now your whole day is gone.
And maybe you started a new job where you sit all day and maybe they keep a giant bowl of chocolate out in the break room all.the.time. because they hate you and they want to pay more for your medical insurance after you’ve given yourself diabetes.
Okay, one person. Well hey there. You and me, we can be friends.
Yeah, except imagine that maybe it’s not jeans. Imagine it’s your wedding dress. And imagine that maybe when you bought it, you knew you shouldn’t have let them order the next size down, but you thought too highly of your future self.
And imagine that it’s Veterans Day weekend, which translates into American English as BUY ALL THE THINGS! So there are more people at the mall on this particular Saturday than the 23rd of December.
And imagine that you’ve been putting this off for weeks, but you finally just made yourself do it, because otherwise you’d be walking down the aisle naked…or in jeans (which might be worse. I’m not sure. I’ll have to consult the compendium of all wedding knowledge: TheKnot.com).
And imagine that you put on this dress and it absolutely, positively, unequivocally, comically does.not.fit. So go ahead and cry about that for a minute, but not too much because there are a million and half people just milling about outside and you like to contain your humiliation to only the necessary parties (and everyone who reads your blog).
Then go ahead and imagine that you relish a few choice expletives about this situation. Actually, don’t imagine that. I know you. You’re far too classy for that. I’m sorry I brought it up. Please don’t leave.
So imagine that you take off this dress and put your adorable plaid button down back on, but then you just sit there on the dressing room floor, without pants, because quite frankly, the embarrassment is warming this tiny little room, and putting on pants is too much for you right now. That’s okay. Your mom can take it from here.
The world seems over. All you hoped and dreamed for is crashing down around you. Not even a peppermint mocha and a new J.Crew scarf will heal the heart after such a tragedy.
But wait. All hope is not lost.
Your lovely sales lady can find the next two sizes up (just in case) and suggests a four step plan:
a) return your dress
b) purchase both the other two dresses and have them rushed to the store
c) come back next Saturday to try them on again and
d) return one
Sounds like a plan that could only be made in wedding mode. Let’s do it.
Then she pulls out the tag. They’re selling off the last of these dresses, (mine are coming from Denver). And it’s 50% (!) off. If you have never purchased a wedding dress, let me tell you: this isn’t some cute floral sundress that will be out. out. out. next June*. They don’t just go on sale. This isn’t a thing that happens.
Except that it totally did.
My mom and the sales lady took hands and did a happy dance together. I was, of course, still regretting every single piece of chocolate that I had eaten since May individually, and I hadn’t even made it through the summer yet. So my reaction was more tempered.
Then she rang them up. And they were listed at 25% of their original price. For reals, y’all.
A 75% discount on a wedding dress. Even I was tapping my feet, happy style, at this point.
But I did totally get my hair cut before trying on the dress. Yes, I did that on purpose. Because a hair cut always makes your outlook on the world a little bit brighter.
So to sum up. I ate a whole lot of delicious sweet potato fries and cupcakes. And it saved me hundreds of dollars.
Bring on the cake.