My “Groomsmaid” dress. Oi vey. What a drama that was.
Kathy was so entirely sweet about every decision that was made concerning having me in the wedding. She told me that she’d like me to wear the same dress as the bridesmaids, but would I like to wear sage green (like her attendants were) or would I rather wear black? BLACK!! I always choose black clothing over anything else…it’s slimming! Right? I was thrilled with her over that one.
Would I rather carry a bouquet of lilies like the other girls or would I rather have a boutonniere like the guys would be wearing? A bouquet!! I’m a girl…I like flowers…I need something to do with my hands. A bouquet would be lovely.
She even arranged for me to get fitted for my groomsmaid dress at a store close to me instead of driving down to Columbus where the dresses would be ordered from. I went there, was thrilled when my size dress pretty much fit me (because wedding dresses always run small), was feeling very proud of myself over the weight I had lost and was so happy.
I say that it “pretty much fit me” because the waist fit perfectly. The bust on the other hand…you could have stuffed 10 pairs of Bill’s socks in there and it still would have needed to be taken in. All part of my being part of the “Itty Bitty Titty Committee” and all that.
Months later, Kathy and I met halfway so that I could get my dress from her that had been ordered in Columbus and finally had come in. I drove home all excited about the funny blog post I was going to write of me wearing the dress with 10 pairs of socks stuffed into the bust.
I walked in the door, immediately tried on the dress and realized very quickly…the store where I had tried on the dress at HAD SIZED THE DRESS INCORRECTLY. Yes, the dress I was trying my best to squeeze into (and that Bill was applying the jaws of life to try to zip it up for me) was a dress size TOO SMALL for me.
And would you believe it…the bust was still too large?! That, my friends, is just not right.
So, I went on a girdle hunt…I tried to watch what I ate…and I had the bust of the dress altered.
Unfortunately for me (or maybe fortunately) the sweet older lady that altered my dress didn’t really fit my the bust as tightly as she should have. When I was wearing the dress, the bottom half of the bust was me in my push-up bra. The top half of the bust was the fancy wiring gadget stuff that was built into the dress and a whole bunch of air.
I had the biggest boobs of my life! And they still looked tiny.
So, as this well drawn diagram will show you…there was a lot of empty space not being filled up correctly in my dress. (Red arrow = my teeny tiny “you know whats” and the white arrow indicates the large portion of air floating above them.)
But, I’m feeling pretty good. I’ve got pretty hair! My sister did my make-up really nice for me! I have a black dress which is hopefully slimming! I have fake boobies!!
And all it takes is a little one-year-old rascal to bring a person right back down to where they belong on this earth.
You see, the ladies in my family love to hold Jordyn. She’s our baby…the little princess…we fight over her. And, finally, while waiting for dinner to be served it was my turn to hold her. And she was really happy to sit with me…mainly because she adored my pretty little necklace, but that is neither here nor there.
(I’m not a lush! I swear…those are my children’s non-alcoholic “Shirley Temples” that they kept getting at the bar.)
My baby hog sister-in-law kept trying to take her from me, but Jordyn stayed with me. And I was one happy auntie.
But then the moment came when she began to get bored…and a bit sleepy…and she laid her head down to rest on my “ample” bosom.
And, as little stinkers tend to do, she quickly realized that something felt different. You see…her mommy actually has an ample bosom…and Aunt Angie’s didn’t feel even nearly the same as her mom’s did.
(Can I just stop for a minute and express my “gratitude” for my photographer sister who just “happened” to capture all of these “wonderful” moments with her camera??)
Jordyn wanted nothing to do with that necklace any longer. She had found something much more interesting to do!
Down they went…
And right back up they’d pop!
Down and up. Down and up. Down and up.
Down…and…uuuup!
She could have entertained herself for hours with my nonexistent boobies.
I’m pretty sure I let someone else hold her right after this blessed event occurred.
I’ve decided that I’m just going to consider it my good deed to the family. We now have a new game that we can play with all the babies to keep them occupied during their ornery moments. I’ll just squeeze back into my groomsmaid dress and they can play a rousing game of “Pop Goes The Boobies.”
Or, maybe we should call it “All Around The Bosoms?”
“Itty Bitty Titty Pop-Ups?”
I’m open to suggestions.
