An ocean of white is flowing before me. Waves and waves of variations of styles and fabrics of wedding dresses. Wedding dresses. I squeal a little for a second and Brianna clasps my hand. I almost can’t believe I’m shopping for my wedding dress. I saunter down the aisle to the rhythm of Pachelbel’s Canon in D as I let my fingers dance along the soft silks and brush over the catchy lace.
I’m so caught up in this moment and I can’t wait to be caught up in Jack. With Jack, forever. We are finally getting married. Married. It’s been less than a year since I met him, and I know that seems fast and that maybe we don’t know each other’s quirks, but it doesn’t matter. Love conquers all. I know that. I feel that.
I check the size tag and toss one of each style in front of me to Brianna as I circle around to the next aisle. I want to try on every possible design. I’ve been studying styles like a hungry law student prepping for the bar. I want to get this right. I have to find the perfect dress. I want to have the perfect wedding. I’ve already got the perfect guy so I just need to make everything else align, which means finding the perfect dress.
My best friend, Brianna, is here at my side to make sure I do just that. She has impeccable fashion sense and I know she will help me in creating the perfect wedding dress ensemble. She knows my body faults…nothing big, but I definitely wouldn’t be someone who needs extra padding or fabric around my hips. I’m not Shakira—unlike hers, my hips need to lie about their size. They are not exactly petite. Ha! I’ve actually crossed over into the petite dresses. Time to reroute. I glance at Brianna who is buried under a pile of dresses. Her shiny black hair is a sharp contrast against the white sheen.
“Can’t breathe. How about you try a few of these on?” Brianna gasps through the gauze covering the bottom half of her face.
I let out a laugh. “Okay, of course. But this is just the beginning. We’ve only gone through three of—” I glance around the store. There has to be at least twenty rows of dresses. Could they all be different? We probably should have begun the search earlier. I can’t imagine us even making it through this store in a day and it’s only the first store I have on my list of all-star bridal shops. Yes, I made a list, which is more like my sister, Megan, than me. But I’m all in for this wedding and the marriage. I’m not a whacko-bride who only cares about the wedding. I do care about having a great wedding, but I want the wedding to precede a wonderful marriage. Obviously, the marriage is more important. But weddings do have a purpose and I want mine to provide a start to many more happy moments filled with the love I have for Jack and his in return for me.
“We’ve only gone through three of many. Come on, let’s not get hung up on the details yet. We have to find the contenders and then we can fixate on each stitch and sweetheart neckline.” Brianna pulls the dresses under her own neck and cocks her head towards the back of the store.
I nod and follow behind her. I’m almost marching. My knees lift a bit and my elbows swish against my sides. I’m ready to do this. This. My heart pitter pats inside my chest that is so full of excitement and love. It’s almost overwhelming.
Brianna halts in front of me. And drops the dresses on a chair. “Okay, this place is like five-star reviewed on Yelp and yet here we are without an assistant.” She squints her green eyes to scan the building. It’s filled with other hopeful brides and their families, bridesmaids, or maids of honor. I swallow. I still haven’t chosen mine. Brianna raises her hand, alerting me to wait in my spot.
I gaze over the white fabrics. Brocades, Chantilly, Chiffon, and Crepe. It’s so white. Whiter than white. I guess this is why there are variations of the shade but how am I supposed to find the perfect dress? My ray of light of finding the perfect dress is drifting away like a rescue boat of opportunity that I will miss. My chest tightens as I take a step back.
It’s okay. Take a deep breath. It’s been a couple years since I’ve had a panic attack. I’ve learned to manage my anxiety and not freak out. Even if I did, that would be okay too. I would go back to my sessions, find my anchor. The place I can hold on to and focus.
Rows upon rows of who knows how many shades of white are glaring at me. Think calm thoughts. The beach. We haven’t chosen a honeymoon. No, not the beach. Think of Jack. Yes, Jack. He is my go-to comfort zone. I’m good with him. I take in another deep breath. There, good. I’m okay.
I glance back at all the dresses. They are animated in my mind. Like they’re all saying pick me, choose me. I’m the right one. Say YES to this dress! It’s almost like I’m on The Bachelorette the way these dresses are throwing themselves at me. Showing off all their sequins and sparkles, hints of glitter there, and don’t even get me started on the lace. It’s all too much. I need to find a chair. To the right of my pile of dresses is an empty chair and I slide into it.
Why do I do this to myself? I’ve made plenty of great decisions in my life. I didn’t get to where I am at Calstone Corp with anyone else’s assistance. I deliberately slow my breathing. Probably just a little wedding jitters. I bet if Jack were with me he would squeeze my hand and with the mere essence of his hand over mine I would be calm and comforted. Yes.
My phone buzzes almost as if on cue from inside my purse. Before I even see the caller ID, I’m sure it’s Jack. My cheeks warm.
“Hello, Ms. Soon-to-be-Walker, what are you doing? Better yet what are you wearing?” Jack’s voice sends little
