Stuck

It was a Saturday night.

I was home.

I had a rare two glasses of wine.

Jimmy was gone for the weekend.

It was me, TiVo, chick-flicks, dinner... and that yeah, that wine.

I started flipping through my latest BRIDES, casually watching Drew Barrymore's latest love tale: Going the Distance.

I suffered from a sudden wave of excitement about thee wedding.

I got an idea.

That idea -- to try on my wedding dress.

It was the first time it's been out of the bag since I picked it up.

I stepped into the flouffy dress, excitement mounting.

I pulled it up, getting it in place, when suddenly I realized something was missing.

Something crucial.

I freaking needed someone to ZIP THE DAMN THING.

Ugh.

Alright -- no one around. What now? I need to see it on!

I took it back off.

Zipped it... then decided to pull it over my head.

Suck in, slip it on!

Not so fast.

It suddenly stopped.

I realized it was my, eh... speed bumps.

This train was stuck.

I pulled the ivory pile of material up... nothing.

I tugged down, nothing.

Really stuck.

I started pacing.

I started panicking.

I started to talk to myself, reasoning with myself.

"You don't want to die like this."

"Well, there could be worse ways to die."

"At least I'll be in a pretty dress."

"Oh my God, Jimmy is 4 hours away."

Alright think. I have to get out of this by myself.

More pacing.

My face was turning red.

This fucking dress was tight.

Breathe.

Either I cut it off... or reach my non-double jointed arm around my body, find the zipper and pull like I've never pulled.

And maybe a small promise to God that I'll go to church if he helps a sister out.

Option two.

Operation Arm Reach.

The way I got my arm all the way around my body, I'll never know.

It was painfully, but successfully executed.

God.

I unzipped, exhaled, and pushed the taffeta down to the ground.

I let out a big pissed-off sigh.

I felt like I had just been stabbed in the back by a best friend.

I looked down at my dress with anguish and ran out of the room.

After five minutes of thinking about forming wrinkles I ran back in the room and lovingly picked up the neglected garment.

I hung it back up and decided... we can remain friends but need some time apart.

We need a break.