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Mother of the bride dress? — Don't leave it to the last minute.

That's me, a “leave it to the last minute, wait until push comes to shove” type of gal. I try to be organized. I’ve researched the principles of Kaizan and 5 S, and pay lip service to the whole “there’s a place for everything and everything in its place" maxim, but at the end of the day, I'm where I always am, going nuts at the last minute trying to get things done.

This week’s last-minute project is finding a #motherofthebride dress for my daughter’s #wedding. I've done my research, combed the dress stores — note to self, never try on dresses after a week of holidaying — and googled #MOB apparel online. I've ordered a dress from a website. Yup, I'm ahead of the game, and still have one month to spare. I'm not going to be one of those wild-eyed MOBs searching the dress racks three days before the big event. I put my feet up, grab the remote, and sit back to await my dress’s arrival.

Days pass. The doorbell rings, heralding the arrival of the UPS delivery van. It's just that painless, I think, smug in the knowledge that the parcel in my hands is the answer to my dilemma. This is too easy. It's almost instant gratification — seven days and the dress is here. Said dress is everything I wanted — light, flowy, summery. It’s the perfect dress for an outdoor July wedding.

But, of course, nothing is ever that easy. Said dress appears to be a bit snug. Okay, maybe substitute the word snug with the phrase — this must be how a sausage feels when it’s stuffed into its casing.

“No, no, stop.”

My husband, with his engineering background, has a problem-solving mentality. To him, this is something he can help me fix, but there is no solution that will make this dress fit . . . unless it's an immediate opening at the Biggest Loser Resort, and I can book in for a quick retreat.

“Wait. Inhale a bit. I think I can do it up if —.”

“Stop. It doesn’t fit.” I slap away his helping hands, shuck the dress, and stick it back into its bag.

“Do you really think I'm going to the wedding looking like a Bratwurst?"

He retreats to his office and I head for my computer. The dress is going back. I’ve ordered a larger size and it should be here in five days. If that one doesn’t fit, you know where I'll be, wild-eyed and crazy, haunting the sales racks with the rest of the MOBs who left their dress choice to the last minute.

So, here’s an early toast to dresses, online shopping and weddings, but not to sausages, because if the next dress doesn’t fit, I'm going to be looking for a new casing.


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