Lemme just start off by expressing a big fat UUUUUUUGGHHH!
I had my 3rd dress fitting tonight at 6:30pm at the store where I bought my dress. These are supposed to be fun right? The bride is supposed to be giddy and cry and jump for joy when the sweet, well mannered seamstress brings it out with a big smile on her face as she says "Your dress is doooone! It looks beautiful!!"
I hate TV. Where's David Tutera with my beautiful designer dress that probably costs more than our whole wedding?
Totally not how it happens. At least not on my TV show in my head. Going to the store where I got my dress on a weekday, in the evening, is a huge inconvenience. If you live anywhere near DC, you know how HORRID traffic is. The last time I went (and also tonight) I elected to take the Metro. While more convenient in the sense that I don't have to drive through DC towards VA, except for my drive from work to the Metro in MD, it still sucks. Going into DC on the metro is fine, because everyone else is going the other way... but once I get to the first stop in DC going towards VA, it's like cramming 80 mexicans in Pinto. NOT kosher.
Pretend I'm Jim Carey in this photo.
*sigh* Might I also ask for a little courtesy whilst riding the Metro? PUHLEASE wear deodorant. P-L-E-A-S-E! It really dampens the mood when I'm standing in the aisle of the Metro car, packed like a sardine, and I turn to find my nose 2 inches away from a sweaty, hairy, STINKY arm-pit monster.
So an hour and a half later, I arrive at the Metro station, my mom picks me up and we head over to the store.I wait about 10 minutes for the seamstress to be ready, then go into the dressing room, cram myself into my Spanx (btw- I LOVE these. They are extremely difficult to get on, but maaaaan do they make my butt cuter and less fatty, and flatten out my jelly rolls) and start putting the dress on. I look down at the boobs, and wtf. Little threads EVERYWHERE, missing beads, loose beads---uuuuuuugh. They never fixed it.
I call my mom in to zip up the dress for me, she zips it half way and RIIIIIIIIIPPPPPP. The mother ffing zipper rips right off of the dress. You have GOT to be kidding me. Holy whore in a hand-basket. Now, I haven't gained any weight and I didn't Hulk out.. but I wanted to gouge the seamstress's eyes out at that very moment.
The seamstress came in and acted like nothing happened.. "Oooo how deed dat happeeen?" Because you suck. That's how.
(Edit: Her name is Myra! I rememberedededed! :))
In addition to the zipper ripping right off the dress, the lining inside the dress was bubbling out of the boob section, and the area under right arm pit was gaping wide open....
She didn't fix diddly squat last time. So now, I have to go back a 4th time on March 31st.
Dear David Tutera,
I would love to have you come make this wedding process stop sucking.
Please? I'll bake you cookies!!! :(