Like Daughter, Like Mother

My mother works as a seamstress, mostly doing alterations for bridal gowns and formalwear, but sometimes she branches out and does things like sewing curtains for yacht windows and things of that nature as well. Over the weekend, while Steve and I were battling My Vagina Is a Rosebud, my mother was embroiled in a battle of her own. Her opponent: the Delusional Bride.

It's probably not much of a surprise to you that this is a battle she has to fight over and over again, but this particular DB is notable simply for the extreme homicidal urges she brought out in my normally non-confrontational mother.

DB found and bought an ornate, heavily beaded wedding gown on E-bay for $75, and brought it in for my mother to adjust.

"Isn't it the most beautiful gown?" DB gushed. "I saw it and I just had to have it, no matter what. I sure do hope you can get it to fit me. It's the gown I've always dreamed of wearing!"

My mother carefully inspected the gown. "There's an awful lot of bead work on this dress. If we end up having to remove the beading and sew it back on, that's going to be very time consuming and more expensive."

"I don't care how much it costs," lied DB. "You just do what you have to do."

Now, DB probably thought she was telling the truth there. But if you paid a certain price for a wedding gown, common sense dictates that you aren't going to want to pay MORE than the original cost of the gown for alterations. Remember, also, that she only paid $75 dollars for it. $75 dollars worth of alterations is about the equivalent of hemming it and tightening the bodice, period. DB is in for a rude awakening.

"Well," said my mother briskly. "Let's try this on and see how it fits."

DB gave it her best shot. After struggling under yards of tulle and beadwork for a few minutes, she paused, arms extended up and over, her bleached shock of hair peeking out from the neckline, the dress refusing to budge past her bustline.

"What is the size of this dress, dear?"

"An 8," came the muffled voice from inside the satin tent.

"And what size are you?"

"22."

My mother floundered briefly, then: "Didn't they mention the dress size in the description?"

"Oh, yes," replied the bride, finally working the dress down over her head. "But I thought you could, you know, make it bigger."

My mother stared at DB. Her head was through the dress, but she was unable to push her arms all the way through the fitted sleeves, so they were still raised over her head like a Baptist witnessing at a revival.

My mother walked around and looked at the back of the dress. There was a twelve inch gap between the two ends of the zipper.

"I....well...Well. Okay. You're going to have to lose both the sleeves and the train. Those sleeves just aren't going to fit, ever. And I'm going to have to use the train to create panels on both sides of the dress. Furthermore, in order to hide the panels I'm going to have to do matching beadwork over both panels I put in, not to mention the fact that I'm going to have to remove all the beadwork from the front and the back and then reapply it. Not only that, the dress must be hemmed. There is a lace trim at the bottom of the dress that is going to have to be removed first, then sewn back on after the dress is hemmed to fit you. I can do this, I think, but I must warn you that it's going to be very, very expensive."

For the second time, DB said, "I don't care how much it costs. I don't care what you have to do. Just do it."

After DB left the store, my mother went to her boss.

"I have a bad feeling about this. After going over exactly what I'm going to have to do, and how long it's going to take, I really don't think it's going to be worth it to alter this dress for her. I really think we need to itemize the cost in writing before we work on it and have her sign an agreement."

Her boss refused. So my mother had no choice but to spend the next three weeks of her life trying to create something out of nothing. But she did it. After 21 long, twelve hour days of cursing and aggravation, the size 8, long-sleeved dress with a train was now a size 22, sleeveless marvel. It was beautiful, a masterwork even by my mother's exacting standards.

She called DB and told her that the dress was ready.

She arrived to pick it up within minutes. My mother proudly brought it out and presented it to her.

DB studied it for a few seconds in silence.

"Where are the sleeves?"

"I...told you that I'd have to remove the sleeves."

"No way would I have agreed to that. Nuh-uh. No way. How am I going to cover all my tattoos unless I have a long sleeved dress?"

"Well, Dillard's department store has makeup that covers tattoos."

"HEY! Where's the train?!"

"I had to use the train to create the panels on the side to expand the dress."

"I cain't see no panels!"

"Well, you're not supposed to be able to see the panels!"

"You didn't put no panels in it. Where's my train?"

"How could I have made a size 8 into a size 22 without panels?"

"Are you calling me fat?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!"

"Ma'am!" shouted DB to my mother's boss, "This woman called me fat!"

"She did no such thing," said the boss. "Now you just stop that. She worked very hard to make this nice dress for your special day. And it's beautiful. Now you try it on and see what you think."

Momentarily cowed, DB slipped it on. It zippered up the back smoothly. The yards of fabric flowed to the floor around her and just touched the floor, perfect for a slight heel. Every bead was in place, the neckline was gorgeous, the bodice formfitting.

DB admired herself in the three-way mirror.

"All right," she said grudgingly. "I'll take it. How much will it cost?"

"Well, the labor was quite extensive, and we had to buy extra materials. It's going to be $500."

There was a hush in the room, a stillness during which all the air was sucked up and out and the pressure became odd and heavy, like the silence that falls directly preceding an F5 tornado. The birds outside stopped singing. DB, my mother, and my mother's boss regarded each other.

Then, as quick as lightening came the familiar, terrifying sound of the barrelling freight train that accompanies a whirling, white satin wind tunnel that destroys everything in its path.

"YOU SHYSTER BITCHES!!!! YOU NO-GOOD THIEVING ASSHOLES!! I PAID $75 DOLLARS FOR THIS DRESS AND AIN'T NO WAY I'M GIVING YOU ONE GOD DAMNED DIME OVER $40. IT AIN'T WORTH IT IT AIN'T WORTH NO $500 NO HOW! I'M GONNA CALL THE POLICE ON YOUR SORRY ASSES YOU DUMB WHORE ROBBING GYPSY BITCHES!! I'M GONNA TELL EVERYBODY IN TOWN HOW YOU RIPPED ME OFF! MY BOYFRIEND'S GONNA COME KICK YOUR ASS, BURN THE WHOLE PLACE DOWN!"

As it turns out, my mother is now the owner of an absolutely gorgeous white satin, heavily beaded size 22 wedding gown. If anyone is in the market for an absolutely gorgeous white satin, heavily beaded size 22 wedding gown, she will be selling it for the bargain price of $575.