I came mostly prepared. I'd made voting cards and stored snacks in my car should hunger strike my judges. But what I didn't come prepared for was the moment I exited the dressing room for what probably was the 12th time, looked up and saw my sister tear up.

If you've ever tried on wedding dresses, you know there are no mirrors in the dressing room. So I hadn't seen the dress now making her emotional.

Then, I did. I turned around to show off the train. When I returned to face my peanut gallery, my consultant asked, "Are you crying?" I totally was. Then, I really started crying.

What ensued was a moment I'd come to think probably wouldn't happen (not that I'd expected it to). I literally was on my 12th or 13th dress and no one had cried yet. I hadn't felt unquestionably beautiful yet. Isn't that what The Dress is supposed to do, even if a girl dislikes her arms and her hips?

My mom jumped up and hugged me, tearing up, too. My sister cried more and grabbed me in a hug. Then we fixed the veil and I stood, soaking in what could very well be The Dress I wear to marry the love of my life.

It certainly made a mark on my bridesmaids and my mom:
Other dresses did not. (I'd show you them, but the husband-to-be might see!) See how assertively my mom is saying no?
I almost paid for the dress that made us cry. But I wanted to mull it over. And I'm glad I did. I know myself. I'm a reporter. My best work and my best decisions are made when I feel comfortable with the extent of my research, and I knew, even amid the excitement of the find, that I wasn't there.

So this Sunday, we visit another bridal boutique, and if nothing beats Contender No. 1, nothing beats Contender No. 1.
9/24/2014 03:16:12 pm

If you've ever tried on wedding dresses, you know there are no mirrors in the dressing room. So I hadn't seen the dress now making her emotional.

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