Something about buying a wedding dress makes the upcoming wedding seem so much more real.
“Page, this is so you!” Legalista says.
I study myself in the mirror. Chic, sexy, elegant, nostalgic. 50’s flavor without being cartoonish about it. It is a style I’d never worn but one that suits me to a T. Me, reimagined.
I turn to the sales lady. “I’ll take it.”
“I really appreciate this, you know,” I tell her.“I’m glad it’s not weird for you. It isn’t weird for you, is it?”
“Oh, Page, seriously, it’s no problem. This isn’t the first time the groom’s ex-girlfriend has taken the bride shopping for the dress.”
“He does have really good taste in women,” I say.
It’s at times like these that I really love my life. Or when Legalista is helping me get into a dress and I warn her about my stretch marks and loose skin, and she replies, “Yes, Page, I know. I read your blog, remember?”
The sales ladies really don’t know what to make of us.