Something That Stood for So Much

I’ve picked out a wedding dress before.

It was right there hanging, second dress to the right. Yes. After going through what seemed like a thousand catalogs. Hair-getting-caught-in-zipper fittings. Hours of mirror gazing, observing every little fabric detail. I found one. (Or it found me)

The perfect balance of lace and white chiffon. A fit that wrapped around my figure perfectly. Not too extravagant, not too simple. A trail that was just right for me to be able to enjoy the celebrations without it getting on my nerves. A veil that was bordered by the most delicate, beautiful lace. I found it, my dress, staring right back at me in my reflection in the mirror. I found it.

I’ve picked out a wedding dress before. A wedding dress I didn’t get to wear out of the store’s fitting room. Saddest short story ever? Pretty much. There’s something tragic about picking out a wedding dress and not wearing it.

groomSubconsciously, the person you’re marrying is plastered to your head while picking out the dress. After all, it’s a joint celebration. He was the one going to be standing next to you while you stepped out in this beautiful white ensemble. His black suit would compliment the lace. His bow tie, your white bridal heels.

As soon as you picked it out, without your consent, he marked it. Your dress belonged not only to you, but to him as well. Without him, this beautiful piece of art was meaningless.

What happens after you’ve struck lucky with a dress that wasn’t meant for you? What do you do with the white fabric haunting your every day? Hanging in your closet, reminding you of what could have been. Silently inquiring about its second owner. Every time you open your closet. Every time you’re looking for an outfit to wear. Every. Single. Day.

Consequently, your white – has been – soulmate turns into a nightmare. It needs getting rid of. But how do you get rid of something that took so long to find? Something you picked out of so many. Something you searched high and low for. How do you burn something that (while it lasted) made you the happiest person alive?

Something that stood for so much. Something you were supposed to wear to the happiest day of your life. You can’t just burn that gesture.

Truth is, it was all in context. This dress now holds the same value as an old T-shirt in your closet, the florals wilted and the white no longer resembling purity, peacefulness and happiness. Quite the contrary.

I picked out someone else’s wedding dress, a marked dress. If you happen to know the owners, please tell them to come claim it, it’s taking up my life – and I’m done picking out dresses.

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