A Red-Hot Mess
We all have our "hot mess" moments. You know that meltdown you have after pretending to keep it all together for so long? That's exactly what happened to me recently and it was all triggered by a red hot dress.
I rented a dress from Rent The Runway for a wedding on Valentine's Day weekend. I was told to dress in the Valentine's theme and thought this red & pink color block number by Jill Stuart was fitting. When it arrived, I couldn't get into my original size 6 so thank goodness for the free handy backup size-- right? WRONG! I slipped right into it only to notice that the bust was quite roomy (*cue the awful high school dance flashbacks of stuffing my bra to fit into a dress*). I figured it was nothing a few safety pins and a bombshell bra couldn't fix.
As I was taking off the dress, I heard a loud rip. I looked down to find that the slit had torn. After corresponding with Rent The Runway, they immediately overnighted me the same dress in the size 8 free of charge. I thought I was home free after that. Again, I was sooo wrong.
The morning of the wedding, I planned to do a shoot to show off the dress here on the blog. So I got my nails done and treated myself to an Old Fashioned blowout at the new DryBar in town. I got home, did my makeup, and slipped into the new dress. As I was rushing to my leave, the dress rips in the same spot! I have no time to waste so I hop into the car with Amanda (aka my photographer, Gdtography) and tearfully explain my predicament. We both agreed it could be photoshopped and I convinced myself I would be okay.
During the shoot, I was trying my best to pose in the sexy old Hollywood glam vibe I was trying to go for. Let's be honest, who the hell feels sexy after ripping two rental dresses? Not me. On top of it all, the top of my dress kept slipping down and I felt so self-conscious. Amanda and I agreed, again, that my bra could be photoshopped. As I was finally getting into my zone, I heard a loud burst of laughter and looked behind me to see two grown men mocking me. I was over it. I wanted to cry so badly but instead, I flipped off the camera. We finished up our shoot and I came straight home to try and fix the rip before the wedding later that day.
As I grabbed a needle and thread to reinforce the slit, I felt hot tears of frustration smearing my mascara. My boobs are too small. My fat thighs ripped the dress. It's all my fault. No wonder those guys were making fun of me. Yes, this is the way I was talking to myself and I learned that day that I needed to stop the negative self-talk.
A dress size doesn't define who I am and I know I'm doing what I can to have a healthy body. I realize that I don't really need to have it together all the time, which is why I ultimately decided not to have Amanda photoshop all of the flaws from this photoshoot. Yes, you can see the rip. Yes, you can tell the dress is too snug around my midsection, Yes, you can see my bra. But this is real life and sometimes life is just one red-hot mess.