Over the course of the last decade, I have collected and donated
almost 20 single-wear gowns. These are perhaps more commonly
referred to as "bridesmaid dresses." Everyone knows the truth about
these duds. You don't shorten them. You don't save them. To quote
Taylor Swift, once the dress comes off, you know you're never,
ever, ever, ever getting back together with strapless seafoam.
Yet when I stood up in another wedding this past November, I
vowed that THIS time, things would be different. This time, I would
find a reason to wear the dress again.
The red, floor-length number had its own story. The bridesmaid
dresses were ordered from the shop with plenty of time to spare.
Yet when they finally appeared only weeks before the wedding, they
were the WRONG ones. The scramble was on. The correct dresses
arrived hours before the rehearsal dinner, and emergency
alterations were done well into the night.
Despite the drama, I loved my dress. It was by far one of the
most flattering I've ever worn in a wedding. The worst one, you
ask? That would be the bright yellow, empire-waist number that
resulted in a bunch of over-served bridesmaids doing "The Chicken
Dance" with a little extra vigor if you know what I mean. Cluck
After the festivities ended, I was sad to put away my dress. I
stared hopelessly at the calendar for SOME event, SOME reason to
not shove this one special offering to the far recesses of my mind
and closet. What about wearing it to the school bus stop?
That didn't feel right. The boys' swim practice? Someone would call
security. Mass? That would just single me out every time I screwed
up the new responses… "And with your SPIRIT. SPIRIT."
But then I found it. It was the Bath & Body Works "Girls
Night Out" Benefitting the American Heart Association coming up
Thursday, Feb. 28. I noticed a bunch of people writing about the
event, and in each picture, women were sporting formal red dresses.
PERFECT. I entered every online giveaway for free tickets, and
guess what? I won! It was meant to be.
For the record, I definitely support the American Heart
Association and I love those fantastic vanilla-scented lotions from
Bath & Body Works, but let's be honest. I really just wanted to
wear my awesome red dress.
It got me thinking. Maybe I'd make the red dress my signature
outfit? I'm participating in a few upcoming events for my book, Epic Mom. There was
also my theatrical debut as a cast member of the
Listen to Your Mother stage show. I could be like Superman but
in a one-shouldered red designer frock.
My name would be "Superbridesmaid." And I'd wear a big giant "B"
on my chest. In sparkles.
Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. After all, it's been months
since I last wore the dress. Girl Scout Cookie season is in full
swing. Thin Mints have been disappearing by the sleeve. Who knows
if I could even squeeze into the form-fitting gown?
Then again, I do have a true superhero-like secret weapon. A
contraption so powerful and so mighty that it goes by a single
You think Wonder Woman just rolled out of bed looking like
Special shout-out to Lisa over at Oh Boy, Oh
Boy, Oh Boy for being the only contest to pick me, despite my
17,000 global entries.
Marianne is mother of three sons and the wife of a southside Irish fireman. She has learned that sometimes you're just too dumb to know what makes you happy. She blogs regularly at We Band of Mothers (webandofmothers.com) and curses with even greater frequency. Her material is written for the imperfect, the imprudent, and the impatient mothers who know that all this stuff is really very funny if you just give it a minute.
See more of Marianne's stories here.
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