AIMEE: My pal Jennie’s wedding is suddenly only a week away, and it’s just occurred to me that I need to get the alterations done on my bridesmaid dress. I make a beeline to my neighborhood dry cleaners and as I’m changing in the backroom, it hits me: Right now, I feel completely at ease because this is Jennie’s show, not mine. No one will be judging me – critiquing my flowers, my placecards, my hair. My main responsibility for Jennie’s wedding is to wear this dress. After that, it’s bonus round.
Jennie and Aimee.
I emerge from the backroom in the wine-hued floorlength strapless number and, simultaneously, my cashier-friend, a customer and the woman doing the alterations all nod in approval with a chorus of, “Very pretty!” (Who can resist commenting on bridesmaids gowns?) The woman with the pincushion ushers me over to the full-length mirror right by the shop’s front window and starts to pull in the back of the dress making it snug enough to stay up. Suddenly there’s a tap on the glass. I look up. A giant, scruffy trucker-type man in a muscle tee, sunglasses and a baseball cap–who looks as though he might be a potential robber–is creepily watching me. He smiles and gives me a thumbs up sign. Yuck. What to do? I give him a thumbs up and grin right back. I bet he didn’t expect that kind of bravado. He laughs and walks away.
Back in the changing room I’m getting out of the dress all the while envisioning Jennie’s wedding. She’s a bridal butterfly leaving behind the family dramas and the endless battles over things like menus and traditions and etiquette. How I envy her.