When you know you know By Lisa

DSC03038 One store. One hour. One majuh love affair.

In a nutshell, I found my perfect wedding dress in less time than it takes Heidi Klum to say Auf Wiedersehen.


As I handed over my credit card, (and tried not to think about the price tag- O.M.G!), I wondered, was it supposed to be this easy? Wasn't I meant to try on dress after dress after dress, always wondering if a better one could be around the corner?

I called Liz to tell her I'd found the dress of my dreams at my first appointment on my first day of shopping and asked her if she thought that was that okay. She didn't skip a beat. "Lisa, you worked your f***ing ass off to find the perfect man. You shouldn't have to work that f***ing hard for your dress too."

And she was abso-f***ing-lutely right.

The search for your dress is exactly like the search for your husband. When you know, you know. So why keep looking when you've already found him? Or why stop looking when you know in your heart you haven't?

I could win some sort of contest for spending years trying on more than my fair share of ill-fitting, uncomfortable, "one-off"  men. They weren't a fit, but I kept them in my wardrobe anyway. Eventually, I would realize most of them were like skinny jeans-- a really bad decision.

Until I found Matt-- who is like my favorite, most comfortable jeans. He is the perfect fit. (I know, I know... gag me with some harp strings!)

And now I have the perfect dress to marry him in...

Marilyn was dress number two and yes, she's so amazing she has a name.

When Jane, the, um, actual DESIGNER, brought Marilyn into the dressing room, I had a gut feeling that she was the one.  Then I stepped in, pulled the dress up around me and looked in the mirror.

It. Was. Love.

Marilyn is a show stopper. Marilyn is the really good kind of drama. Marilyn will make your mother cry and your groom thank his lucky stars he found you. Marilyn knows how to command a room. And, well, she's just pretty damn unforgettable.  Marilyn is so awesome she makes you forget how much money you paid for her.

But then I met Cate.

Cate is another gorgeous dress. She's amazing. She's beautiful and the really good kind of subtle. She knows how to work a room and charm you. She'll also make your mother cry (but face it-even a potato sack could probably do that) and your groom might just cry too!

And for a few minutes, I was torn. There was something about Cate that I really, really loved. I felt romantic and light and the good kind of bride-y.

But in the end, I chose Marilyn for the same reason I chose my fiancee. When you know, you know.

Oh, and because, as Rachel Zoe would say, Marilyn is BANANAS!

Tell us YOUR wedding dress story!  How did you find "The One"?

xoxo, Lisa


I was laughing last week as Lisa came out of the closet, proclaiming herself a Facebook whore.  Was it only three months ago that I was begging her to join? I fondly remember my first few days on Facebook last July.  The randomness of  being able to friend your mom, your boss, the guy who took your virginity all at the same time held a lot of appeal to me.

At first I was a bit shy.  I would troll around in cyberspace for hours, wishing my exes didn't have such common names so they'd be easier to find.  Why hadn't I dated less Smiths and Jones?

But once I did find these people, I was happy to see that they were  just as curious to find out what I'd been up to for the past 10-20 years.  They were probably dying to know if I'd finally figured out how to use a tweezers and a straightening iron. (FYI, I did, but only after a intervention by my friend Heather.)

As my friend list grew, I became drunk with the power of finding every ghost of my past.  I began to friend with abandon, adding everyone from from my  high school nemesis to a fellow mom at my kid's preschool. I was unstoppable!

Until I found Gappy McGapperson.(Not his real name, obviously.)

I met Gappy my junior year of college.  Let me make one thing clear, just in case his name doesn't do him justice. He was not cute. At all.  He was a  Kurt Cobain wannabe with a huge gap between his front teeth and helmet hair.

But he'd transferred in from another school and immediately started dating a very cute girl. So everyone thought he was hotter than he really was. Then he dogged that cute girl. Real bad.  And the rest is history.  I had to have this gap-toothed asshole for my own.

Like a lot of us, I had a secret fantasy that I would one day tame a "bad boy".  That although no other woman had been able to break him of his drunken, tardy(I'm so anal about time that I consider this bad boy behavior), dogging ways before me.  I had visions of people toasting about it at our wedding...I would become a legend to insecure woman with daddy issues all around the world!

And this secret fantasy led me to date the biggest jackasses on earth until I finally realized that it's okay to let yourself love a nice guy.  They make great husbands!

Anyway, I digress.  So long story short, I dated Gappy for a New York minute.  We had big plans to attend my sorority formal the week after spring break.  Formal was the place I was going to show him that I was the girl that would change his life forever! But my dreams were crushed when he proceeded to mack on at least ten other girls in Mexico on Spring Break.  In front of all my friends.  With some of my friends!

Needless to say, that was the end for Gappy and me.  The toast at our wedding just wasn't in the cards now, even if he did beg for me back and  pledge his undying love.  I was hurt, humiliated and frustrated with myself for letting the fact that he was a "bad boy" make me forget how gross he was.

Fast forward to last month.  I'm cruising Facebook while watching Grey's Anatomy and decide I have time to peruse the millions of  pages from my college graduating class.  It had been a while since I'd made a great Facebook "find" and I was anxious to discover someone interesting from my past.

And there he was!  Gappy McGapperson.

Okay, so I know what you're all thinking.  OF COURSE I want him to take a look at my profile and feel regret that he let me slip away.  That if  he had just been patient and pointed me in the direction of Weight Watchers and a good hair stylist, we could've really had something.  I wanted him to see my incredibly tall, handsome husband,(Gappy wasn't too tall and I think we've established he had a dog-face.) and beautiful children and say, "Damn! She could've been mine!"

So, without having tasted Facebook rejection yet, I confidently hit the "Add Friend" button and wrote a short note. Something like. "OMG, hey Gappy!  It's Liz!  How the hell are you!"

And then I waited.

And waited.


After a couple of weeks, I dropped back in on Gappy to see what was going on and saw that I had been REJECTED!  That's right.  The friend request was gone, I had been ignored.

Basically, Facebook's version of the middle finger.

Really Gappy? Really?  You're not even a wee bit curious what I've been up to?  If you would just add me as a friend you would see that the tables are turned. Now I'm too good for you!

And I'm not gonna lie.  The rejection stung.  All of a sudden it was 1995 all over again when my roommates sat me down and detailed Gappy's extracurricular activities in San Felipe.  And then all the scrambling I had to do the next week to find a formal date that hadn't publicly humiliated me. (Much harder to do than you might think!)

So I've been a bit shy on the Facebook trigger since then.  I've found another "bad boy" from the past but I'm just going to have to wait it out for him to friend me and discover I was the best thing that almost happened to him.

*big sigh*