We're mixing this family vacay with a very special celebration--my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. Sun, sand, and renewal of vows. It's been in the planning for over a year. I stress this again, since it sets the stage for my story, and the woes of my procrastination.
T minus 5 months. Mom wants all of us to wear wedding attire. As in tuxes and bridesmaid and flower girl dresses. We give in to Mom's request. She's the bride, after all, again. I buy bridal magazines for ideas.
T minus 5 weeks. I finally bit the bullet and order everything online. Macys.com, I love you! Our bridesmaid dresses were beautiful and in the proper golden hue as Mom, the bride, insisted. I ordered two dresses in different sizes--just in case--and luckily one fit. Except it was clearly loose in the back and neck. Must get to a tailor, and quick!
T minus 2 weeks. Mom, the bride, asked if everyone was ready for the trip, and of course I assured her so. All the while wondering to myself, "Where did that Macy's box go?"
T minus 1 week. Church blessing on Sunday?! What do you mean there's a church blessing on Sunday?! So Saturday night, after schmoozing my Sister-in-laws with food and drink, I brought out the flower girl dresses and announced it was time to embellish. Because Mom, the bride, wanted them bling-ified! Let me share some newly acquired wisdom: A pitcher of sangria, clear thread, and tiny beads do not a happy evening make. Luckily Mom, the bride, agreed to my compromise: only the children should wear their wedding attire. "Where on earth did that Macy's box go?"
T minus 3 frick'n days. After finding the Macy's box--under my bed--I ran to the nearest tailor and begged for 24-hour service. I used every weapon of persuasion: compliments, extra payment, and the Asian connection. Only when I cried, "But my Mom (the bride) will kill me if this dress isn't fixed!" did the woman relent. She also had an Asian mother, after all.
And when I tried on the dress to be fitted, a curious miracle happened. It fit. Perfectly.
Hmmm. Two scenarios come to mind.
#1. Could I have possibly gained, in five weeks, that much back fat (the most evil kind) I now fit into the dress? Frick'n A! Frick'n A!!
#2. The good dress fairy took pity on me. Saving me from the wrath of Mom, the bride, she fairy-dusted my dress to fit. Yeah, that's it!
Whatever. I'm now packed, prepared, and finally excited about this momentous occasion. I also vow never to procrastinate, ever again. Many thanks, good dress fairy! Curse you, back fat!