Page 9 of Allure

I smiled when I thought of it. Growing up with two parents who didn’t impose structure on me in the way most would think was different, but I loved that they catered to my freedom and my need to be who I am. If they hadn’t, I highly doubt I would be who I am today.

My mother took my hand in hers and led me over to the lavender couch situation in front of a circle platform surrounded by mirrors and dressing rooms. The bridal assistant was talking to my dad, who I was sure was talking her ear off about his plants. The widening of her eyes as she noticed us coming back gave me the answer to what I already knew. I couldn’t help but laugh. She stepped around him and made her way over to us.

“You must be the bride! You’re the perfect mixture of your mother and father,” she complimented.

I smiled, looking between my parents, then back at her.

“That’s what they tell me. But, thank you so much. So, what do we do now?” I asked, unsure of what this moment was supposed to look like.

When I planned to get married in this unconventional way, I figured I would buy a dress online or even at a thrift shop, but never this.

“Well, my name is Jenine. First, when is your wedding date?” she asked.

I looked around at my family, then back at her, knowing my answer would make the search more difficult.

“Uh, Saturday,” I replied.

Her brow lifted at my response as she looked between my parents and Mahalia to see if I was kidding, then back at me. She clasped her hands in front of herself, then smiled.

“Just to clarify, in the next two days?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Well, then, let’s get started. We don’t have another second to waste. Do you know your size, or would you like to be measured?” she asked.

I glanced down at my figure, then back up at her.

“I say we go with the measurement. I am sure I fall in between maybe a sixteen and eighteen, but my waist is small,” I told her.

She pulled the tape measure from her waist, then led me over to the platform to do her job. Once she had the numbers she needed, she let us know I was correct, then advised us on different styles of dresses. Although I made sure I looked good, it wasn’t my main concern. I was embarrassed to admit I hadn’t even thought of what my wedding dress would look like.

“I think a mermaid-style dress would look absolutely beautiful on you. Let’s go pick out a few, then we can get you to try them on,” she offered.

I smiled and followed her lead. She pulled out so many dresses, it was making my head spin. I hadn’t even thought about the way I wanted my husband to see me when I walked through those doors. But one thing I knew for sure was I wanted to feel sexy and desired. Now that I thought of it, I wanted him to feel lucky the moment his eyes fell on me.

While walking through rows of different dresses, an off-white dress covered in pearls with a detachment caught my eye. I stopped my pursuit and pulled it from the rack. I didn’t want to get too excited, so I checked the tag to see if it was my size. I laughed because this dress was the exact size I needed, down to the measurements. If it looked good on me, I doubted I would need a single alteration. If this wasn’t a sign, I didn’t know what one was.

“Jenine, I would like to try this one on,” I called out to her, stopping her.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled brightly.

“Let’s do it. I think we have more than enough dresses picked out, anyway.”

She walked back toward me and took the dress from me. I followed her lead back to the dressing room with the many other dresses. It seemed as if I had every dress in the store back here. So, I told Jenine I would try on my mom’s pick, my dad’s, Mahalia’s, and finally, my own. If none worked, I would try one of her picks. She was okay with that.

Jenine stepped out of the room to allow me to get undressed, awaiting my knock on the door to alert her when I needed to be zipped up. My mother chose a dress that was a classic A-line silhouette with a sweetheart neckline and delicate lace sleeves. It was beautiful, but as I slipped it on, I couldn’t help but feel like I was drowning in fabric. I knocked on the door, and Jenine entered, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of me.

“Well, it’s certainly… traditional,” she said diplomatically, trying to hide a smirk.

I turned to face the mirror and burst out laughing. “I look like a marshmallow with arms!” I exclaimed, twirling around and watching the skirt puff out around me.

Jenine giggled and helped me out of the dress. “Okay, let’s try your dad’s pick next.”

My father had selected a sleek, modern sheath dress with a high neckline and a dramatic open back. As I put it on, I felt like a Hollywood starlet, but when I tried to walk, I realized I could barely move my legs.

“Jenine, I think I’m stuck,” I called out, shuffling awkwardly toward the door.

She opened the door and stifled a laugh. “Oh my, that’s quite a… unique choice.”