After graduation my focus changed to my wedding.
I know I had been obsessive about the dress. I was accompanied by my mother, Sunny, Sandy, Jen and Jeff when I originally bought it.
Ha! Even if I had been able to hoodwink Jeff into coming, his most incisive comment would have been, "It's white."
The most fun part of the excursion for the others came when I asked, "Does this look alright on me?"
Jen was the first to break out in laughter, but the others followed immediately.
"The only thing I've ever seen you wear that might not have looked alright on you was that hideous getup you wore to my summer reading class so my students wouldn't be aware of how hot you were. Even then you had to put on makeup to play down your appearance.
"If you're going to ask us for an evaluation, the question ought to be: How wonderful do I look in this on a scale of nine to ten, all lower numbers being impossible to attain."
When I tried on another dress I asked, "Does this make me look like the most beautiful bride in the history of marriage or only the runner up?"
In the end it was unanimous: I did not look like the runner up.
The first week home I went twice for a fitting. Nothing had changed.
My third visit was at the beginning of the second week. I was uneasy about something, but I couldn't figure out what. I prevailed upon Sunny to go with me.
While we waited for the seamstress she said, "You sure are nervous, Ashley. Is something wrong?"
"I don't know. I don't think so, but I just can't relax."
The seamstress appeared.
"Here for your regular checkup, Ashley?"