The hunt for wedding dresses started two years ago, teamed up with Becky. We flounced up to the most glamorous boutique in town and tried on every possible gown. In between of stripping into knickers and being squeezed, zipped, pushed, tied, sucked into all possible shapes of duchess and queen, Becky and I sipped on Tea and relished our luxurious dream.
The next venue, for dress trying was on the other side of town where we not unlike battery chickens where coarsely rushed in and out another set of gowns.
I must say it tired us out. For a while we where done with our wedding dress bout.We annulled the other trips and Becky flew off to England and acquired a dress, and shoes, and bridesmaids outfits in a shop, free of stress other , than well the inevitable presence of mother.
As the date to my wedding day neared, I re fueled my search dropping an eye at the shops in split town. I still liked the idea of silk. But all that duchess, Marie Antoinette, puffed up, complicated frocks this year simply did not do, so i went off to England too.
As it is always it turned out far to much fun, active, sort of holiday and after trips on end with the tube in between encounters with friends hours of stripping clothes only to put them on again seemed a waste of good time.
And than as I toured the old country, my mothers friend had an eureka. She was going to surprise me with a cat show of wedding dresses, which I could try, dresses from her company and she put them all in the car with a plan to hunt me down at Aunt Barbara's ,but i, had not knowing this plan and left, having tired none.
Her sons girlfriend tried the dresses, and they sent me the photograph's, and I had but to chose.
The dresses where beautiful. Satins, silks, chiffon's. Simple shapes. Just long enough trains. I immediately knew the one I wanted to wear . Pam had saved the day, i had no more silly shops to orbit, she put the dress in a box, and sent it away.
After many days of imatience, the dress arrived in Croatia . But woe, here believe it or not, when a post man sees a box, he does not take it to your door to say, how do you do. No, here the post, is a very curious thing, they first of all like to open each box. They nose about and see what is inside. And than make up a customs-tax-sort of fine.
So one has to go to the main post office of the city. And pay to pick up a letter in which they say you cant have it just so.
And if you fight their accusation of you having imported it, and say there is no bill which thex demand, that the package is a gift. They bluntly refuse to accept such a story and still insist on an invocie or make up their own value of the dresses which than they make you pay in the name of the functioning of the state.
The taxes put on my package, mother in law informs me, are there to pave local cities. Right. It took a week going to and fro the post, falsifying bills, filling up papers, calling, smiling, and showing pregnat belly to cut queues to finaly buy the battered box from them .
Only, in the rush of the morning, I had managed to , lock my self out, of the apartment. Had to ride a taxi to the furthest edge of town, tolerate the driwer complaining aobut dog pats all they way and back to have a key which would enable me the privacy to open the box which had all the way been buring at my side.
At last inside. Sizzors attacked the selotape. Two dresses slid out in plastic. I quickly threw of the furs and coat and turned up the radiators, pressed play on the track which always brings me luck, ejecting trousers and socks and shoes. I stripped down to the knickers, pulled off barricades from the hall mirror, and slid my body into satins, eyes full of wonder , teeth reflecting jewels.
To discover, that the size that has been mine for ever has suddenly shrunk. How could this be? I twisted, and jacked my own breasts up and down but they simply ower flowed the gown. I had no idea boobs could ever, be too big. Yet, after the waist I could simpley not do up the zip.
A little de-spirited, I slid the frock off and kicked heels away, only to pick up the real, number one, the dress I will wear on the day.
Its made of ivory chiffon's falling, and satin silk, and antique style jewel's and is simpley dlightfull. I got in ,very slowly , savouring the moment, my breast fit, my spirits rose, i paraded to the mirror and was faced with this belly which just sticks out like a boulder.
Ah. What to say. No idea what I shall wear on the day.
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