Dress Miscellany, plus a Toast

One week from now, Steph, who has been my best friend since I was a fuzzy-headed ninth-grader and she was a flannel-wearing one, will have already walked down the aisle and said the words that will enter her officially into the ranks of respectable married ladies everywhere. She will then, of course, quit her job, learn how to make her man's martini just the way he likes it, and start hosting the local ladies auxiliary book club. To kick all of this off, you should all be deeply saddened to know that she will not be wearing this dress:

As much as we rolled around on the floor of David's Bridal laughing at it, I am frankly shocked that she didn't pick it. It obviously brought everyone much happiness and merriment. We could have gone for a "Ballerina Barbie" theme for the whole event. Oh, well. (I actually just remembered the phrase "everything a bride should be" as spoken in the dreamy, addlepated voice of the sales lady as she stood back, hands clasped to her chest, trying to ignore the snorts and innapropriate comments from the peanut gallery.)

I do know what the chosen dress looks like, and it's nothing like this. It's also a far cry from the Dave Mathews t-shirts she was into when we first met, and much prettier than the color guard outfits I remember from soon thereafter. (But then, your Uncle Hubert's ugly seventies sofa is much prettier than most colorguard outfits.)

Anyway, here's a pre-wedding toast to Steph and her good taste, both in the un-foofy dress she chose, and the Bridezilla she has (mostly) chosen not to be.

(Note: any appearance or sighting of Bridezilla shall both be attributed to a justified cause and promptly dismissed as a figment of your nasty drug habit. Stop doing drugs, will you?)