Six weeks ago I ordered my wedding dress. I was so excited. I counted down the days until the dress would arrive. I emailed the company at least three times to check on the status of the dress and to double check that I would get my dress on the twentieth of May. I day dreamed about the dress and at night I had wonderful dreams about wearing the perfect dress in the perfect wedding to the perfect man. Then May twenty-third rolled around and I had to wake up and smell the roses.
I was sitting at work when I got a text from Brandon. The package had arrived. My wedding dress had arrived. My dress was here. It was at my house. I could go home and see it and hug it and try it on and be the happiest girl in the world. Eek! I raced home, threw the door open, by-passed the pooches, skipped the smooches and picked up my package. I opened it ever so gently and pulled out my beautiful, perfect, gorgeous… wrong wedding dress. The company sent me the wrong wedding dress. I tried to remain calm. It was similar to my dress, except it wasn’t the right material. It had good intentions. I tried the dress on. It didn’t fit. It was too small. I ordered a ten. I sit here writing this post wearing a pair of size six capri parents. Clearly a ten should have been more than big enough. How was this happening? Cue tears…. Now.
It has been a little over eighteen hours since the horrible event occurred. I am beginning to calm down. I am determined to get the right dress. I have made a list of seven different stores that carry the designer and plan to speak to each and every one of them today. I told Brandon that I am not above taking out a small loan in order to make this happen. In walks Michelle. Little, angry Michelle. Fixer of all problems. Creator of all solutions. She is willing to play let’s make a deal and at this point, I am willing to make a deal with the devil, so making a deal with Michelle doesn’t seem so bad. She will loan me the money to get my dress on several conditions. Hmmm… go on. I must pay her back before her wedding (4/14/12) – I can do that. I have to stop wearing heels when walking across the hard wood floors and out the front door in the morning on the days that she works evenings – I can do that. And her last request – that she gets to beat Hank whenever she wants. Hmm… dream dress – animal control taking Hank away – dream dress – animal control…. Deal!
The moral of the story: She might be little and tiny and a little tiny bit bitchy, but behind that tough "I can and will taze you exterior", Michelle has a heart of gold. And really, if not for Michelle my dream dress would be just that. So thank you, Michelle, for making this whole thing possible, keeping me seemingly sane and being the best big sister ever :)