Tomorrow mom and I hit the streets on a mission to find the perfect wedding dress for moi.

I’m scared.

There are either going to be too many to choose from or not enough. Either way, I’m pretty sure mom is going to frown upon a little black dress. But Ma! Black is slimming!

Mom has told me I should get something with a sleeve (is that like saying I need some sort of harness?). Mom is not fond of the strapless look. Little does she know that pretty much every wedding dress out there is strapless.

I’m actually leaning toward a short, strapless little diddy. You don’t even have to say it mom, I already know what you’re thinking… oh the whore(r).

I may or may not post pictures from the excursion. It all depends on how I feel after 3-4 hours of trying on big white dresses in a store jam packed with loud, shrieking, anorexic, twenty-somethings and their entourage of loud, shrieking, anorexic, twenty-something, overly enthusiastic maidens.

I’m so over this scene.

I wonder if they serve cocktails at David’s Bridal? If not, they should. Call it Happy Hour… it is Friday after all.

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