When Girlfriends Chase Dreams by Savannah Page Page A

shorten this baby, and maybe pinch in a little at the waist…” I carefully pull back some of the loose fabric at the midsection and try to imagine how it would look altered to fit my curvy body.
    “Can do,” the second assistant chirps in.
    Jenna finishes the pinning and, yes, this dress is going to be mine! With the length adjusted for a test, and with the midsection fabric pulled taut a little, I can see the perfection of this dress for me, my body, and my wedding.
    “It has a blossom flange detail,” Jenna says, “and a draped skirt. Don’t you love how the organza blends with the gazaar? So lovely. And very vintage. Very chic…”
    “I’ll take it!” I blurt out. I can’t stop running my fingers over the dress’s folds. It looks so beautiful—the ivory color and the different textures of fabric—with my sparkly engagement ring. Oh, it’s amazing!
    “I’ve found my dress, girls,” I say with pride. I feel like I’m glowing. “This is what I’m going to get married in!” I give a squeal of delight and clap my hands like a little girl, and, cutely enough, Rose imitates me.
    “Excellent!” the second assistant says. “Congratulations.”
    “Thanks!”
    “Congratulations indeed,” Jenna says. She then makes a puzzling face. “Yes, we’ll definitely need to alter the length significantly here.”
    I shrug and think that I can’t fight with the short and squat legs God gave me. Then I remember my shoes. My amazing Jimmy Choos that give me a sure four, maybe even five inches of added height.
    “I won’t want it altered this short,” I blurt out with a hint of fear in my voice, as if Jenna is outfitted with a pair of scissors and is ready to alter on-the-spot. “I need my shoes. My Choos shoes.”
    “Oh, we’re not measuring for alteration now,” Jenna says. She now looks stoic. She comes around to my backside and starts tugging and pinching at the dress. I’m worried something will rip or tear, but I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.
    She then starts to hem and haw. What’s she thinking? Is something wrong? Is there a tear? Oh no! Did I accidentally grease something up? My boots! My boots are a little muddy.
    “What is it?” Sophie asks, accurately reading my expression.
    “I think we need to go with one size smaller, Claire,” Jenna responds.
    “Really?” I’m in shock. I thought with a little altering this very dress could be fitted just right.
    Jenna says she’s confident one size smaller will be better, and that way we won’t have to alter too much and take away a significant portion of the original detail that’s in the length or in the bodice, since the waist is a little too loose.
    I’m panicked now, deathly afraid that the most perfect thing about this wedding so far is going to disappear. Somehow the dress will get lost in the shuffle, or some other bride will snatch it up, or there won’t ever be a record that I came in and tried on this beauty. I’m terrified I’ll have to start from square one all over and wait for this perfect dress to re-arrive. It took forever the first time. Oh dear! What if Vera Wang decided to stop making anymore of the—
    “Claire?” Sophie says. She’s waving a hand at me. “I think we should try one size smaller.”
    “Huh?” I look at the trifold mirror and try to turn to see the back, where Jenna is still poking and pinching.
    “Yes,” Jenna insists. “I would feel much better if we got you a size smaller and then proceeded with altering then.”
    I look to Sophie for reassurance. Is this really an okay idea? A better than okay idea? The best option for us? When she nods convincingly, I let the attendants place an order for the same exact dress, but in a different size.
    “What if that one is too small?” I query. The question has to be considered. “And I end up needing this one, here?” I lift up the dress’s pinned skirt, feeling panic starting to settle it. “Or what if this one then gets bought by someone