The dress

A number of people have asked about the dress.

In fact, a couple weeks ago I was talking to my therapist. And on a side bar - I think pretty much everyone could benefit from therapy. Because all you're doing is talking to talk to someone with no stake in the outcome of a described situation except for you to approach life in a healthier way.

If you've ever had parents, or not had parents - you probably need some therapy. Honestly.

It's a safe place to work things through and let go of them. It's expensive, but not compared to the cost of spending the rest of your life dragging around 85 pounds of baggage. But that's my bias.

Anyway, I was talking to her, and time was up and I was getting up to leave. And she said, "Wait! We haven't talked about one of the most important things!"

And so I ran down my mental list of things I come in to talk about - Family? Check. Work? Check. What I should be doing with my life? Check. . .

"What did we miss?"

"The dress!!!"

I had to laugh. We have a very professional relationship. I mean, one-sidedly personal, because you go in to this otherwise complete stranger and tell them the most intimate details of your life. But in a professional setting, rather than over too many drinks in a bar.

So the dress. These are pictures from my parents' wedding. Don't they look so young and cute? My dad was in the Air Force and they got married on the base.

My mom and her mom, my Gramma Lillian, favorite person on the planet and who I'll name a girl after if I ever have one. . .they made this dress for my mom's wedding. And ever since I was a kid, I've been planning to wear it.

It's made of ivory silk, with very subtle lace and tiny pearls. They both sewed beautifully, and my grandmother put on all the lace and pearls. We even found the blue garter my mom wore when looking for wedding pictures this past weekend.

We have to get it altered, because for one thing, Betty is taller than me. And she wore a hoop under it, which I'm not going to do. Plus, she, like much of the planet, is just bigger on top than me. And in the 60s they wore those enormous, stiff, pointy bras. Can you imagine?

I doubt I'll wear the mantilla or the arm-gloves, as they don't seem very me. But I'm growing out my hair so I have options. And maybe the mantilla will look different then.

You'd never think I'd wear a big crinoline-puffed dress, would you?