There are a lot of wedding dresses out there. Like, A LOT. Some are fluffy, some are slinky, some have sleeves, some don't, and many (MANY) are bafflingly mermaid-shaped. There are beaded dresses, lacy dresses, simple dresses, ornate dresses, and dresses covered in so much bling that only a Kardashian should wear them. There are dresses pretending to be wedding dresses but actually are not, there are dresses pretending to not be wedding dresses but totally are, there are bridesmaid dresses you can wear as a wedding dress, there are wedding dresses you can wear as a rehearsal dinner dress, there are cocktail dresses you "can wear again," and then there's this whole world of cream-colored satin rompers and jumpsuits that I think are supposed to be wedding-dress alternatives but really just look like rejected Saturday Night Fever costumes.
And then there's my dress. The one I passed over on the website because it didn't catch my eye. The one I didn't put in my "to try on" pile in the store because I assumed the waist would be wrong. The one I thought I'd hate because it was white and "white dresses are for other people." The one that made me smile when I tried it on. The one that didn't make my legs sweat or my boobs sag or my shoulders look like a linebacker's. The one I didn't buy in Chicago but that I kept thinking about, week after week. The one I tried on again in New York and said, "yep. this is the dress."
I have to get it hemmed, I have to decide how I want the adjustable straps to lay, and I have to do about 5,000 pushups between now and next October to tone up those arms of mine. I need shoes, nude-colored Spanx, and maybe a veil. I don't know how I'm going to wear my hair, and I think I want my makeup to make me look "sun-kissed" but I don't really know what that means. But I picked a dress (and one that was way cheaper than I expected, which I'm calling a very happy accident) and I am one step closer to walking down that aisle.