I Said Yes to the Dress. But Then I Regretted it and Cried Like a Baby.

Here's a quick, not-really-funny story for you, but it fits with our theme over at Cheesy Bloggers this week of "Best. Story. Ever."  I like this story because it's real and it happened to me and it's one of those little moments in life where you stop and go HMMM.... fate?  Coincidence?  What the hell was that and how did it happen?
I like this story.  May not be my best EVER, but it's pretty cool.

Over a decade ago I was planning my wedding to the Hubby.  The most monumental part of planning that day, for us ladies, has to be wedding dress shopping.  I had it in my mind that I didn't want fru-fru, princess, giant tulle that will eat my guests alive as I walked down the aisle, sparkly, lacy, whole-lotta dressness.  On the day we went dress shopping, I was nervous but intent on finding my dress in one shopping trip.  I wasn't the gushing, princessy bride type.

After trying on a few, I can't even remember how many, I had it narrowed down to a couple that I really liked.  They were both VERY similar in style, but one had more "bling" and the other had less.  So, in my hurried decision, I went with the less fru-fru dress, paid for it, done.  I really wasn't much into prolonging this dress crap.

Well anyway, within a week I was looking at pictures online of the dress I ordered and starting to wonder if I picked the wrong one.  I tried to convince myself I didn't.  It was what I WANTED.  Simple, not a lot of shit all over it.  I wasn't princess material. 

Within two weeks I was looking at my dress online and comparing it to the dress I didn't pick and getting stomach aches about it.  What if I picked the wrong dress? 

Within another week I was fighting back this inner voice that kept saying to me as I looked at pictures of my dress, "I hate my wedding dress.  Hate it."

Within a month I was a sobbing, panic attacking fool.... OHMYGOD I PICKED THE WRONG GODDAMN DRESS!!!!!!

It was a terrible feeling you guys.  Horrible.  I didn't want to get married in my dress.  I didn't like it.  I rushed to buy because I wanted to get it over with and lo and behold here I was, hating my own wedding
dress.  That I was stuck with because it was paid for.   

No refunds, sonofabitch.
I tried to convince myself to just wait til it came in and I tried it on again and maybe, just maybe I'd like it.  I'd be all tan and a few pounds thinner by then and it'd fit better and I'd put on a veil and waa-la, I'd like it.  Maybe not LOVE it, but who needs to LOVE their wedding dress anyway, right?

Fast forward four months or so when I got the call that my dress was in.  Time to go check it out, put it on, and hope for a miracle.  We got there, they brought out my dress to me, and the second I looked at it, I BURST into tears.  Crying like a motherfucking baby. Sobbing/hyperventilating/snot flowing kind of crying is what I'm talking about.

This upset the sales girls very much.  They didn't know what was going on.  When I finally got myself under enough control to speak, this is what they heard come out of my mouth:

That isn't my dress.

Everyone looked back and forth from the dress to me for a few seconds, confused.  So I said it again.

That... is NOT my dress. 

You guys, I'm not even kidding here, it was NOT the dress I ordered and paid for.  They scrambled to get their papers and compared numbers and discovered that, yes, in fact, they had ordered the right dress, the dress I'd said I'd wanted, but the manufacturer sent a different dress.  

I started crying like a baby again.  The salesgirls were freaking out.  "It'll be okay ma'am.  We'll get this straightened out.  We'll get your dress here somehow.  Don't cry...."

But here's what they didn't understand.  I wasn't crying because I was devastated.  I was crying out of pure relief and utter joy because I shit you not people, the dress that came in.....  The dress that they were holding.... It was the OTHER dress.   

The one I'd spent about five whole months wishing I'd chosen instead of the one I did.

I was ecstatic, thrilled, relieved, so so so very happy that the "wrong" dress came.  I put it on with my tan and my veil and they promised to take off some bows that I didn't like and alter it perfectly and not charge extra because this one cost more and ohmyfreakinggod was I happy.  I didn't have to walk down the aisle in the dress I regretted.  I got to get married in the one that was "meant to be."

I have no idea how the mix up happened, nor do I care. 

How's that for a story?  

  

PS, if I were to get married again, I'd go big, princess, blingy.  Dresses today are SO much prettier than a decade ago.  Just sayin.