I went to pick up my bridesmaid dress last week for my best friend's wedding. This is the second dress the store has ordered me for this wedding. The first one was a teensy bit too small in some areas, so I was forced to choose a new style so the dress would be in the store in time for the wedding.
It takes six weeks to ship the dress. Apparently, even though they are a national chain, they have every single dress ordered shipped via camel from Sri Lanka. My dress made it in, safe and sound.
I insisted upon trying the dress on before I left the store. The sales assistant assured me it would fit since she had helped me choose the dress the second time. She humored me though. I pulled off the plastic covering and slipped the dress over my head. Up went the zipper....and stopped. Three inches separated the two edges of the dress in the bust area. Are you friggin' kidding me?
I stormed out of the dressing room. "It's too small."
"No, it is the right size."
"It's too small." I showed the assistant the expanse of exposed skin on my side. She tsked and called over the seamstress. The seamstress agreed it was too small. Out came the tape measures. Over came the manager and another sales assistant.
" I do not understand. You wore this size last time you came in. We were going to take in the waist." The assistant looked me up and down. She leaned in conspiratorially.
"Perhaps, you got the implants?"
I denied plastic surgery. She asked if I was sure. I replied I thought I would remember falling asleep in the operating room and waking up with an improved chest:hip ratio. The seamstress looked up at me.
"Your chest is a size 12. Your waist is size 4. This will never fit. We get bigger size and take in waist." The manager tutted. They couldn't get another new dress in store in time for the wedding. Perhaps I could try the sample size twelve? I thought of C. and agreed. The assistants scurried off to find the twelve and all the other dresses they had in that color in the store. I dutifully tried on the sample dress. It seemed a bit big, so I clinched my arms tightly to my sides.
Bridal stores are set up rather interestingly. There are a zillion mirrors surrounding small raised circular platforms. This allows everyone to see all angles of the dress they are contemplating. It also gives everyone an excellent view of the other people trying on dresses.
I came out of the dressing room and stood on the little platform while the women circled me.
"Raise your arms," the diminutive seamstress said.
I did as I was told.
The dress promptly fell to my hips.
The prospective groom sitting at the next platform over with his prospective wife wolf whistled.
We're going with a smaller size.