Speaking of my first wedding dress, I received this email from Cindy yesterday.
The day I met Cindy was the day that playing dress-up died. On November 13, she poked and prodded me into my first real wedding dress faster than I could say "I do."
I still felt like a 4-year-old.
But Cindy eased me into dresses and out of dismay. She listened to me as I described the ideal dress, and sympathized with me when I disliked each one of them in the mirror.
She commiserated with my mother, who once worked in a wedding boutique, over the brides who seemingly forgot to wear underwear the day of their dress consultation.
She had extra hair ties and bobby pins.
She offered us punch.
She sent a handwritten thank you even though we left the store empty handed.
And now this.
I just can't bring myself to tell Cindy that I bought my dress elsewhere. I never expected having to break-up with anyone while being engaged.