I went prom dress shopping!
Bet you never thought you’d hear me say that, huh? Just goes to show if you stick around here long enough you’ll find something that’ll surprise you. But, as you’d expect, there’s a story.
My lovely girlfriend has an equally lovely daughter and it’s prom dress picking time. What that means is people go from store to store looking for a dress which combines the elegance, sophistication, and utter hideousness that is the hallmark of prom dresses.
Why I had to be there is, and most likely always will be, up for debate. My side of the debated was the well reasoned fact that I would be about as useful in this endeavor as piss in a popsicle.
The other side of the debate (which I personally found slapdash and ill-conceived so saw no chance of winning) can be summed up thusly,
“Shut up. Get in the truck.”
Imagine my surprise when the ‘Standing In The Store’ judges gave her tens across the board.
I must say the mixture of fear, anxiety, and Love’s Baby Soft in your average prom dress shop could cause the Dalai Lama to pop a handful of pills. I’m standing as far away from everyone and thing as possible (in, what I have to assume, are portable changing rooms for when the panics on frenzy) and watched minor nervous breakdowns all around me. One girl kept looking at a dress the shop said they couldn’t sell her because someone from her school already has it.
As predicted by my side of the debate, I was useless. I stood there not touching anything and did a good job until my girlfriend came over and said,
“Check out how heavy this is.”
She handed me a tiny, shear dress which I quickly handed back saying,
“I’m sure it’s heavier than any girl who could squeeze into it.”
She let me go back to my important standing so I checked out my surroundings (it was either that or swing on the metal bar of the makeshift changing room. Trust me, I debated the pros and cons before remembering there weren’t any bars in the area). My squinting at the bright colors covering every square inch must have piqued my girlfriends interest because she came over and asked what I was thinking,
“This place looks like an Easter egg manufacturer exploded.”