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:
So this Sunday, we visit another bridal boutique, and if nothing beats Contender No. 1, nothing beats Contender No. 1.