Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

Saturday I had my dress fitting for my wedding gown, which means that Friday I had to do something I'd been putting off: find undergarments.

I'd waited until the last minute, because I thought there was still I chance I might lose a little weight. But I've been holding more or less steady, within a couple pounds, for the last two years and, despite my recent efforts, there wasn't a big difference.

I'd spoken to my sister ahead of time and also got some suggestions from my hair stylist about where to go and what to look for. I was planning on starting at Nordstrom's in the King of Prussia mall, which my hair stylist said had a wide range of body shapers and bras.

I was driving up 476 and saw signs about a big accident on the exit for West 76, and then another sign that advised travelers to find another way.

Since this was the only way I know how to get to the King of Prussia Mall, I decided to go to Victoria's Secret at the Plymouth Meeting Mall, instead.

As it turns out, I lucked out, and the very first item I tried, a body shaper which was also a strapless bra, fit me perfectly. But I tried a few other things, as well, because I wasn't sure. After I saw how terribly the other items fit, I realized the first item was the one I should pick.

So that first stage was relatively painless. Still, after I got home and tried the undergarment with my dress, I had a few moments of doubt. I guess I expected a much sleeker silhouette than the undergarment provided. In my mind, as I looked at myself in a mirror, even though I'd previously loved this dress every time I put it on, it suddenly made me look like I had a gut the size of Washington state. I even went back and checked my measurements as compared to November, to make certain that I hadn't managed to bloat up incredibly in that time. Caused, no doubt, by a mystery illness which would probably have me in the hospital by my wedding day.

Or maybe, the Imp of the Perverse suggested, that tummy bulge meant I was pregnant. Despite the fact that I've gained only about four pounds in the last two years, and some of that is undoubtedly muscle, I actually went to the drug store and bought a pregnancy test. Because by this point, I was imagining the multiple complications caused by a burgeoning bump on my wedding day, three months from now.

I purposely went to a drug store I didn't usually frequent, which might be a good thing. The clerk was making small talk with all the customers about their purchases. To the woman in front of me, who was buying charcoal and a box of matches, she commented on what a great day it was for barbecuing.

When she rang up my purchase, she fell awkwardly silent. "Have a nice evening," she said, as I left with a clearly panicked look on my face. "I guess."

Of course, the test was negative, as common sense would have told me. I told The Gryphon about my recent misadventures in bad self-talk and he assured me that I looked just as fit and beautiful as ever and he was sure I'd look even more lovely in my wedding gown.

Fortunately, I would find out soon enough just what a seamstress can do.

I arrived about 10 minutes early for my appointment at David's Bridal, and the seamstress was busy pinning up the dress for a mother, there with her daughter. The daughter had a West Indies accent, and the dusty rose colored dress was beautiful against her dark chocolate skin. The daughter, a cheerful young woman with long braids, was really nice; when she saw my dress in the bag as I entered, she told me how pretty it was. I told her that her mom looked nice, too.

The seamstress, who has a pronounced Italian accent, told me to put on my dress and she'd be with me in a few minutes. When I stepped out of the dressing room, both the seamstress and the daughter told me I looked beautiful. What, not horribly bloated with a mystery ailment? Well, that was one good thing.

When she'd finished with the other dress, the seamstress started on me. She pinned the bodice on both sides, but this seemed too tight. When I put my arms down, I thought it looked like I was spilling out over the sides and the back, a veritable bridal sausage.

At first, the seamstress tried letting the pins out, but the effect was only partially diminished. So then she took all the pins out and pinned it in the back instead. This did the trick, and it finally looked like it fit properly and comfortably, like I'd be able to wear it and look beautiful all day long.

Then she suggested something I hadn't considered: adding some pads in the front, to smooth out the line and give me a little extra oomph. I was skeptical at first, but when we'd placed them and I saw my improved silhouette, I told her to sew them in. The ill-shapen bride I'd seen in the mirror yesterday had been replaced with a shapely, smiling bride showing off her fabulous shoulder and back muscles.

The seamstress said that if I wanted to, I wouldn't even need to wear a bra now, because of the pads, but I told her I'd wear the undergarment I was currently wearing. After all, we do want the dress to fit, don't we?

Since it's a tea length dress, we didn't have to mess with the hemline, so I changed into my street clothes and we made an appointment for me to pick it up in mid-July. At that point, she told me, I would try it a second time and see if any more adjustments were needed. When I picked it up, the dress would be freshly steamed and hung on a form which, she assured me, would ensure that it kept it in good condition for my September wedding.

Provided, of course, that I can keep myself from pulling it out of the closet occasionally to try it on, just to make certain it still looks wonderful!

What a relief it was to have the fitting finished. I'd been worried since I bought the dress last fall about how difficult it might be for them to take in the bodice. Since I am pear-shaped, there's a difference of about one or two sizes between my top and bottom half. But as I was leaving, I realized my problem was nothing unusual.

Just arriving were a bride, who was lending moral support to her two bridesmaids, wearing pink tea-length dresses with a little ruffle at the bottom. The dress, however, had recently been discontinued and so they had some issues ordering the proper sizes. One bridesmaid's dress was too small and was pulling up in the back instead of lying flat. However, I've been told that a dress can be taken out at least one size, so that's probably what will have to happen.

The other bridesmaid had lost a lot of weight, and even though she'd already exchanged her dress for a smaller size, it was clearly big on her. She was watching as the seamstress put the pads in my dress and brightly chipped in, "I'll have her do that with me, too." I glanced over at her dress as she said it and realized she, too, was in the sisterhood of pear-shaped women. Pears unite!

I took my receipt up front and paid for the alterations, then celebrated by checking out my favorite consignment store, The Cedar Chest in Media, to look through her latest acquisitions. I found a pair of pants, two tops and a chocolate brown dress that reminds me of a dancer's dress, with a flowy A-line skirt and some beading. The store owner said it would look fabulous on my honeymoon. I would have bought it anyway, but now I know exactly where I can wear it.

Then I checked out the summer shoe sale at DSW Shoes, where I also had several $10 coupons to spend, so I got a nice pair of high-heeled sandals. And I stopped at Marshall's, too, where after browsing for an hour, I walked away with just one Asian-influenced top.

I had a salad, then, in a nearby bagel shop, where I sat next to a mother and daughter who were on their way to some sort of event that required them to set up table cards. I thought maybe she was getting married the next day and they were setting things up at the reception site, since I noticed the daughter was wearing an engagement ring but no wedding ring.

They also talked about some former friend of hers who happened to be getting married that day. "We'll drive right by it," the daughter said bitterly. From the conversation, I could tell that this former friend had really hurt her feelings when they parted ways. Sometimes the ending of friendships is worse than romantic breakups.

Her mother remarked about the former woman's groom, "Why is he marrying her? He's such a nice boy."

Finally, I stopped back at Victoria's Secret. While I was there, I'd picked up three pairs of underwear without trying them. On the salesperson's advice, I bought mediums, but when I got home they were a little tight, so I exchanged them for larges. I told her my hips were bigger than they looked, but after the seamstress works her wonders, I bet you nobody would ever guess.

I wonder how much it would cost to have her alter all my clothing?

More on Alyce's wedding planning:

Musings on Alyce's Wedding

Copyright 2006 by Alyce Wilson

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