A Fabric Cage of Emotion

The wedding is coming up fast (50 days to be exact but who’s counting? I certainly don’t have half a dozen countdowns that I update daily). Last night, I went to my first dress fitting. Both Mama Beau and Chairsy were able to make it to David’s Bridal in Natick with me. They helped me carry my trousseau in from the car and then deposited me in the fitting room. The seamstress (who was named Nina, I believe) came in and asked me if I knew how to get into the bridal bra. I said, “No, not really.” She said, “OK well, I’ll show you.” So, I stripped and held the new one up to my chest and called her in. She instructed me to bend over slightly while she hooked the back. It was very Mammy-pull-tighter-I-want-to-look-ravishing-at-the-barbeque until she kind of gave up and said, “This is the wrong size.”

Nina ran out to get a new loaner bra to use for the fitting and I poked my head out of the dressing room to chat with Chairsy and Mama Beau. Now, my bridal bra is one of those seamless molded corsets. It doesn’t show through the dress but it holds my womanflesh firmly in place. I like it in all its simplicity. It reminds me of my grungy cotton bras when they first arrive in the mail from Victoria’s Secret. But, of course, last night they didn’t HAVE a loaner seamless one in my size so Nina brought back a monstrosity out of Frederick’s of Hollywood. There was lace and wire ribbing and those little strings that you hook to your stockings and OH MY GOD IS THAT A PALE PINK BOW?!

After Nina strapped me into the The Moulin Rouge corset, Chairsy came in and helped me into the petticoats which GOODNESS GRACIOUS poof like nobody's business once you pull them out of the original packaging. She managed to get the dress over my head and I waddled out to the little stage while Mama Beau sniffled and smiled. I realized I had left my shoes in the dressing room. Chairsy brought them out and placed them at the edge of the stage. As I found out, there is no bending over in a wedding gown. Try as I might, the shoes remained steadfastly several feet away from me. As I approached them, one of two things would happen: the dress would push them further away or they would get consumed by my petticoats and I would begin fearing for their safety up in there.

Instead, Chairsy, ever the good brideslave, lifted the hem of my dress, guided my foot towards the shoe and then even acted as my own personal shoehorn. I stood there petting my dress as Nina showed my entourage how to properly close it up. She hemmed what felt like several thousand layers of skirt. Time passed. I spun in lots of circles, talked about bridezillas, and found out that my toes go numb when I stand still too long (I guess we know what will happen during the ceremony – that will make for a graceful exit down the aisle). The seamstress gossiped with us about girls coming to David’s Bridal for prom dresses and buying skimpy one that barely cover their bosoms and we all shook our heads and said “Kids these days.” Once she was all done, I got to walk up and down a little hallway while everyone watched to test the hem length. It’s fun taking up an entire corridor with a voluminous dress. It’s just fabric but it feels like sheer POWER. At one point a woman, I assume a scullery maid, needed to get down the hallway and I stepped aside and magnanimously gestured that she may pass my magnificence.

Chairsy helped me out of the dress and I managed not to put an eye out on one of the thousand pins. I left behind my red light district corset and was able to make an exchange for the correct size in the correct style. Everyone and their mother made a point of profusely apologizing for getting me the wrong size in the first place. I assume they’re used to dealing with bridezillas. Say what you will about David’s Bridal, but I think the customer service is phenomenal.

As we were collecting our things to leave, another girl came out of the dressing room next to me and went up on the stage. Mama Beau, still looking a little misty, complimented her dress (which was ivory silk and one of those pretty mermaid shapes that only looks good on size 2 figures) and asked her when the big day was. The girl replied, “I’m not getting married. This is my prom dress” and proceeded to concentrate on pulling the dress lower on her chest. Kids these days.

The Jell-O Mug

The past week has comprised of INTENSE preparation of the condo for this weekend when my loved ones will descend (or I should say ascend since they’re almost all coming from points further south) on the metro Boston area for my shower and a big thanks-for-hauling-ass-to-a-state-in-which-the-National-Guard-was-recently-deployed BBQ. Despite having sat still for about 15 minutes in the past week, I made time on Wednesday night to prepare for one of my favorite holidays: April Fools. Are you really all that surprised?

Office BFF is a die-hard Office fan and prides herself on being our office’s version of Dwight. So, this year’s inspiration came from the pilot episode. As luck would have it, Office B took a vacation day on March31. Why someone would leave their personal belongings unprotected the day before April Fools with me around, I’ll never know. Suffice it to say, she did and I took advantage by abducting her favorite mug…

Figure 1

… and asking Beau to buy as many packages of strawberry Jell-O that he could find on his way home from work. Shortly after dinner, I was in the kitchen setting this up:

Figure 2

When I pulled it out of the fridge on Thursday morning, it was magnificent. Sadly, it did not survive my commute as well as I had hoped:

Figure 3

Regardless, many laughs were had by all and Office B shouted “I’ve been Dwighted” when she got to work so I consider it a success. If anyone would like to try it out themselves, learn from my mistakes:

1. I positioned the mug horizontally instead of vertically on purpose but in retrospect, it was probably my first mistake. I was hoping to create the illusion of suspension since it was too big to touch the bottom of the bowl (see Figure 2). This way when I took the block of Jell-O out of the bowl, the mug appeared to float a couple of inches from both the top and bottom. The problem lay (lie? Laid? Lied?) in the contact points in which the mug touched the sides of the bowl. Those created weak spots in the outside of the mold which eventually turned into larger fissures. Lesson Learned: A better way was to suspend an object in Jell-O can be found at (where else?)

http://www.jellostapler.com/stapler-in-jello.html.

2. Jell-O will stain white counter tops. Lesson Learned: Work over the sink or (like I did) make sure you have a serious stain remover on hand. Beau had to the leave the room when I cleaned though because the stain remover reminded him of cleaning up vomit in college.

3. Before pouring in the liquid Jell-O, I greased the interior of the bowl with cooking spray in the clever hopes that it would make removal easier. It did nothing of the sort. When I pulled it out of the fridge and shook it over a plate, it didn’t fall out. I thought that maybe the top edge of the Jell-O was preventing it from sliding out easily since it was clearly adhered* to the side of the bowl. I slid a knife about an inch down around the mold. The next time I shook it, a chunk fell out but not the whole mold. Major fissure # 2. Thanks to the foul, clingy nature of Jell-O, I was able to stuff it back in the bowl and make it sort of whole again. Lesson Learned: I eventually shoved a long boning knife as far as it would go between the bowl and the Jell-O. Then it finally came out.

4. For transportation purposes, I put the upside down bowl back over the plated mold and harnessed it in place with tape. If the Jell-O hadn’t already split, this may have worked. Since it did split, bits of Jell-O were preventing the bowl from making contact with the plate. Lesson Learned: either don’t let the Jell-O split or even better, pull the mold out of the bowl at its final destination so that transportation is not an issue. I didn’t want to bring a big honkin knife to work but what the hell. What’s one more weapon in my cubicle?

5. I put the plated mold with the bowl covering on the floor of the front passenger seat where it jiggled at me horrifically**. My commute was longer than normal thanks to flooded roads and the Jell-O continue to wiggle and ooze out from under the bowl. When I finally got to the highway, I floored it in an attempt to get the wretched thing out of my car before it touched the carpet. Lesson Learned: I reiterate, pull the mold out of the bowl at its final destination. Jell-O was not meant to go 80mph.

6. Jell-O smells really bad on its own and if you’re anything like me, the odor will make your stomach turn as you relive memories from high school of your first attempt at Jell-O shots. Lesson Learned: Do not mix tequila and lime Jell-O even if you’re in high school and it’s the only thing you and your friends can steal from your parents’ liquor cabinets without getting busted because no one ever drank the tequila and you could tell from the amount of dust on the bottle. The memory will haunt you well into your 20s.

I hope my pointers serve to help you in your own future pranks. I know this time next year, I’ll be references them myself.

*This shit is so gross. How is it considered dessert?

**SERIOUSLY – HOW COULD SOMEONE EVER WILLINGLY IMBIBE THIS VIAL SUBSTANCE?