Okay, so baby steps on telling the story of the dress fitting.

I went in there by myself. It’s just a tailor appointment, right? What could I possibly need an entourage for?

When I walked into the bridal shop, I was greeted warmly by one of the owners, who is an awesomely nice lady. “Do you mind if I use the restroom before we get started?” I asked.

She apologized, “Our bathroom isn’t working, do you want to run to the Blah-Mart down the street?”

The what? Down the street? I pictured a gas station bathroom and decided I didn’t need to go that badly. I hoped the appointment wouldn’t take too long, but didn’t have time to dwell as I was immediately ushered to the back dressing room and told to get nekked, but for whatever under-roos I’d bought to try on with the dress, which was, um, yeah. None. So I left my regulars on.

To Be Continued...