the dress

this saturday, i'm going shopping for a dress for our wedding. because although i'm going to zap my way through that day, that doesn't mean i can't look pretty (with a 6.5 month gut). i'm going shopping with my mom, which will be highly interesting in itself. my mom and i haven't been shopping since the last time, two years ago, when she stormed out of the store and didn't speak to me for an entire month. needless to say, my mom and i shouldn't really be shopping together. we were never any good at it.


it probably started as soon as i started to develop my 'own' taste. 'own' is exaggerated, because i was at that age where you and all your peers want to look the same. anyway, the way i remember it, my first shopping drama with my mom was when i was 14 and i needed a new winter coat. it was the eighties and i wanted a coat that i could zip the arms off of, so that it would transform into a body warmer (i told you it was the eighties!). my mom on the other hand wanted me to buy this incredibly dull and in my eyes childish, blue, plain coat with a horrible hoody on it (so not what you wanted back then), with a fake fur lining. we argued about this dilemma, until my mom started crying really loud in the middle of the store. my mom has no shame. which is awesome, except when it's not. so she won the first battle.


a gazillion battles later, with wins and losses on both sides, we haven't gotten any wiser. my mom just threw my boots in the trash when i wouldn't, in return i wore a skirt that barely covered my ass to her uncles funeral, just to piss her off. this was all well past my eighteenth birthday.
the thing is, my mom thinks that one style only is good for me: the cover it all up style. she wants my skirts far below the knee, my blazers over my ass, same for sweaters, tops should have a high neckline and definitely not be too tight - apparently i have boobs for nothing - and to make the picture complete, everything should be blue, grey, brown or black. but that's not the worst part. the worst part is, is that she will tell me that i'm too fat for anything that doesn't fit the cover-it-all-up category. in the middle of the store. loud enough for others to hear. i love my mom, but i have always resented that. i mean - she said this when i was actually fat, but also when i actually absolutely wasn't. yes i have hips the size of china and no, my ankles will never be ballet dancer material. that doesn't mean i have to put on a freaking burka. get over it!


ANYWAY.


i sent my mom a picture of a dress that i think would be appropriate for the wedding. nothing white (because really, the whole virginity thing is so not going to fly), but i was thinking green velvet and silk, strapless, with an organza blouse/coat/dressy kind of thing over it. in the same color. totally not too sexy, because hey, i've been sexy enough considering i'm going to deliver a baby. but not something that makes me look like i'm on my way to the market in the center of bagdad either. something nice, or so i thought.
because according to my mom, i 'have to be realistic' and wear nothing that you can 'see through' (the organza thing). a 'business-like but festive suit' would be 'far more appropriate'. "but mom, i would like something that says: let's celebrate". "but you're pregnant, honey". apparently, now that i'm pregnant, it's not appropriate to celebrate.


are you still reading this? really? my compliments.


to make this long story a little shorter: next saturday will be interesting. very interesting. because frankly, now that i'm going to be a mother myself, and now that i'm a hormonal time bomb, i really don't feel like getting what she wants, just to make her happy. I'M getting married. and i plan to do that only once. so i'd like to wear something that I feel good in. i'll keep you posted...