Red, White and Blue

Stacy London would have a field day with me.
Ninety eight per cent of my wardrobe is black. The other two per cent is made up of a couple of blues and greys.
I have one red sexy Chinese dress accented with black vinyl and safety pins but that's another story.
I don't really like colour and I've been so used to being overweight that I always wore black because, as every woman knows, black is slimming.
The one "colour" that I dislike, a lot, is white.
I had to wear a white blouse for five years in high school when I played in the concert band and that about sums up my history with white.
So, it always seemed logical that I wouldn't wear white at my wedding.
(I also have a baby so that whole purity angle is out of the window.)
A blue backless dress. That's what I've always said I'm going to wear to my wedding. I wanted it to look like the gown that Hilary Swank wore to the Oscars a few years ago.
A couple of weekends ago, I was at home visiting the parents when my dad suggested that I go try on a couple of wedding dresses.
What would be the harm? I'd try on some hideous white monsters, show my parents how pukearama they were and we'd leave it at that.
We went to a very large wedding store where we were instantly greeted by the happiest woman alive.
I hated the place already.
She made me take my shoes off so I hated it even more.
Then she started to lead me around to show off all the bags of wedding dresses.
These things all looked the same in their garment bags. Huge swaths of white. Yawn.
Where was my blue backless dress?
She chose a champagney coloured empire-waist, strapless dress for me.
Were those sparkles?
Oh lord.
I went to the changeroom, with the saleswoman. Apparently she had to help me with the "modesty panel" in the back. I'm not really a modest kind of gal. Did I need something called a modesty panel? It sounds like part of a game show.
"Is this the dress you were thinking of?" she asked.
"Do you have a dress style, a colour, a designer in mind?"
"Are you wearing a veil or a tiara?"
"How high will your shoes be?"
"Have you thought about a train?"
I stared her down.
"No? Haven't decided that stuff yet? Well, no problem, let's just start here. You're one of those brides!"
I wanted out of this princess hell.
Give me some funky, some crazy, even some tacky and help me escape from becoming Tinkerbell.
She did up the dress, put a crown on my head, and led me up to a platform where I could stand to admire my dress.
She poofed out the skirt, smoothed it down, adjusted my crown, and said "there now!"
I opened my eyes and looked at my outfit.
Good god.
I looked -

drop dead freakin' gorgeous!
The dress was beautiful. The bodice fit my like someone had made this dress for me. It sparkled in all the right places; a million little diamonds smiling for me.
Here comes the bride and my, oh, my isn't she lovely. Isn't she beautiful...
But, um, who wants to wear some frou-frou fluffy white doilie? Yeah, like so not me. I'm definitely wearing blue.
Or maybe, just maybe, I'll wear white. And if that happens, I'll also be a little red in the face.

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