Last Monday was the best day ever. No, I didn’t marry Stanley Tucci or get offered a role in the Newsies musical. It was – almost – better. At 8:30am, my cell phone rang and a very lovely author informed me that I’d been nominated for a Very Important Publishing Award. Cue swoon.
Me! A leg lamp writing award! In four months time, this very spinster will be flying off to California to attend a fancy publishing conference and a black tie awards ceremony. It’s like the Oscars! With more carpal tunnel sufferers!
Of course, being the ridiculous person I am, my thoughts immediately turned to one thing: the dress. There is an old saying my mother taught me: When one gives an acceptance speech to 3000 people, one must look super fly. The chances of me winning are slim, but a good former Girl Scout must be prepared. No one remembers The Girl Whose Dress Was Not On Fire. In that vein, I spent the past week looking for a gown.
That’s a lie. Not looking, but obsessively searching. For seven solid days, I did nothing on the internet but look at evening gowns. If you are going to a black tie function soon, tell me what you want to wear, because I have seen ALL THE DRESSES. No department store lay unchecked, no designer unscanned. I called Kate not once, but three times, for hour-long dress powwows. Finally, after talking myself out of a Marchesa and a Carmen Marc Valvo, I tracked down the perfect dress. Grecian-inspired, emerald green, and on sale!
A question bears asking, I know. Why was I in such a frenzy, when the awards aren’t until late July? Because I am totally nuts, friends. I like to call myself enthusiastic, but – let’s be honest – the word is obsessive, Grace. When I embark on something, be it a new hobby or a gown search, it becomes an all-consuming quest. I must be the best sewist, own every rare Nancy Drew edition, and track down the one gown that will make my wildest dreams come true. The quest is all I think about. If I hadn’t bought that damn gown, the next four months would be spent doing nothing but comparing this color green to another. That way madness lies! I have a deadline coming up and dress shopping is not an excuse my agent will accept.
This bodes poorly for my future. If I ever become a bride, watch out. It better be a short engagement, so I don’t lose whole years of my life to flower arrangements. I’ve always thought planning a wedding would be easy, because I know exactly what I want, but that may be the problem. Knowing what I want leads me to set up complicated Ebay alerts, just in case the perfect pair of Frye riding boots appear in my size (Dorado riding, Bordeaux, 9.5). No matter that I have four other pairs in my closet already – they’re just stand-ins for the real prize. Can you imagine what picking out a wedding dress would be like? Those poor people at Say Yes to the Dress (Atlanta, obviously) would explode from frustration.
Y’all are so lucky you only know me on the internet. Kate and Mae are probably praying that I never meet Mr. Right, if only so they’re spared the experience of being my bridesmaids. My name is Grace and I’m a future bridezilla. It’s lucky this blog is anonymous, don’t you think, poor unsuspecting male population?
- Grace
P.S. I’m currently on a quest for The Perfect Gold Belt for the gown: thin, braided, double wrap. Any leads can be sent to ConfederacyOfSpinsters (at) gmail.com
