That Wedding

Hillary walks back in the room with four dresses. There must be something about having a complete stranger see you practically naked that makes you feel like you can talk to her about anything. While she's getting me all done up, I find myself telling her that it's kinda hard for me to be picking out a dress without my mom. I tell her how my mom loved bling and how I used to fight against it, but the older I get, the more I don't mind just a little bit of sparkle. For some reason, it makes me feel more like her.

The first dress she puts me in is actually quite pretty. I know for sure, it's not THE dress, but it's probably the first one that I don't dislike. It's a strapless mermaid style dress. It has just a bit of bling across the waistline, but the rest of it is pretty plain. Like the simplicity of the design is what makes it gorgeous.

I show Lori and the moms.

"This isn't the one," I say, "but it's very pretty, don't you think?"

Lori loves me in strapless, and the moms love the mermaid style. Maybe we're getting somewhere. Maybe today I will find a dress.

Eight gowns later.

Hillary knows more about me than my best friends. Not only have I told her about my parents, but I told her how we were going to have a long engagement, but moved it up. How the wedding is going to be romantic. How the date magically fell into place. How it's the day after my parents' a

I tell her about the ballroom, the candlelight, and the food.

When she goes to grab more dresses, I'm embarrassed to realize that I've been totally spilling my guts to her.

We've tried on beautiful dresses, but none of them are right. I'm starting to feel like a failure again. And I'm not the only one that's feeling that way. Hillary doesn't seem as chipper. Lori and the moms are starting to look bored and frustrated with me. They've loved quite a few of the dresses, and I'm pretty sure they think I'm nuts.

Naked is starting to sound better and better. Maybe I could just buy a veil and have one of those artists come paint my body white.

Ha! If the Chiefs make the playoffs, I could leave the paint on, add some red and yellow, and go to the game! I'd probably get on TV. Like if I didn't get arrested first.

Hillary is a very patient trooper though, and she comes back in with four more dresses. She's just about to put me in another dress, I already know I'm going to reject, when my cell rings. I had left my phone sitting on the chair, so I can see that it's Phillip calling me.

"It's Phillip, the groom!" I say excitedly. "Do you mind if I answer it quick?"

"Sure," she says.

I answer and say, "Hey."

Phillip's soft dreamy voice fills the room. "Hey, Princess. How's the dress shopping going?"

I apologize to Hillary. "Sorry, I must have hit the speaker button." I turn off the speaker and say to Phillip, "I'm still looking, but I think we're getting closer."

It's a total lie.

Both Hillary and I know this.

I tell him I need to go, and he tells me he knows I'll find the perfect dress today.

As I'm ending the call, I notice Hillary looking at me kinda fu

I nod my head and launch into the story about how when we were ten, Mary Beth Parker told everyone not to play with me. How Phillip still did. How I told him he acted like a prince. How since that day, he's called me Princess. How he's always called me Princess in private, but lets it slip out now in front of our friends. I even get a little misty when I tell her about how we used to play games as kids. How I would be a princess, and he would rescue me from dragons. How as we got older, he rescued me for real. When my parents died. From bad dates. Flat tires. You name it. How when I was little, my parents told me I should marry Phillip. How I laughed and told them I was marrying a prince.

Pretty much, I gushed on and on about how amazing Phillip is.

Hillary's eyes light up. She gets a big grin on her face and says, "I have an idea."

She dashes out of the room while I think about Phillip. About how much I love that boy. I need to keep reminding myself that's what this wedding is all about. I'm going to marry the boy I love and have always loved. I think that's why I've been having such a hard time. I'm trying to find a dress worthy of that love.

Maybe I'm approaching this the wrong way. Maybe I should think about what kind of dress Phillip would like.

I think about the dress he bought me for our engagement, freaking covered in sequins, but still tailored and simple.

Hillary is gri

She seems super excited and sincere, so I say, "Okay."

I mean it's the least I can do for the woman who's probably going to need some kind of deep post-traumatic stress counseling after dealing with me.

I close my eyes as she slides a dress on me.

Then she holds my hand and leads me on the now familiar walk out front.

"Keep your eyes closed," Hillary whispers to me. "I'm going to grab a veil."

I want to open my eyes. I can hear the moms and Lori whispering.

Hillary pulls back half of my hair, slides a comb and veil into it, then lays a headband across the top of my head.

"Okay, sweetie, now you can open your eyes."

I look in front of me.

Staring back at me isn't me in another dress.

Staring back at me is a BRIDE.

And this bride is wearing the most beautiful dress I have ever seen.

The top of her dress is strapless and satin. It fits the bride perfectly and accentuates her thin waist. Crossing her waist is a band of beautiful crystals. The gown of her dress is layer upon layer of frothy silk organza. Her hair is half pulled up, her blonde curls are cascading down her shoulders, and there's a long veil with a crystal headband that perfectly finishes the bride's dress.

It takes a second for me to realize the bride I'm looking at is me.

I get little tears in my eyes. I've been looking for so long, and I'm so happy I didn't buy another dress because this is EXACTLY how I want to look for Phillip. This dress is a combination of my tailored style and, well, kinda like a princess. A princess that isn't going to the ball in a big hoop skirt. This princess is more like a fairy princess, and she's going dancing in a frothy, swishy, twirly skirt that feels like she's wearing a cloud.