My Cousin Deliberately Made My Wedding Dress Two Sizes Too Small – She Was Astonished When She Saw How I Handled It

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. I was surrounded by the people who loved me, and even more, my cousin wanted to do something so intimate by making me a wedding dress.

Everything felt right.

We spent weeks choosing the design and fabrics. We pored over the magazines and websites, and finally, I had an idea in mind.

One day, I met Sarah at her office, ready to take my final measurements so that she could start with my dress.

“You’re going to look amazing,” she said, taking my measurements precisely, jotting down everything carefully on her writing pad.

“Oh, I hope so,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee as Sarah put her measuring tape away. “I’ve been on a strict diet, and I’m finally happy with my weight. So, it’s just about maintaining my figure now.”

“You look good, Jess,” she said. “But if anything changes and you find yourself losing or gaining weight, just let me know, and you can come in for another fitting.”

I nodded and left, eager to see how my dress was going to turn out.

But when I went for the final fitting, things took a turn.

I slipped into the dress, but something was wrong—it was way too small. I couldn’t even zip it up, no matter how hard I sucked in my breath.

“Jess! Are you crazy to gain weight before the wedding?” Sarah asked, her tone dripping with mock concern.

My heart sank. We were two weeks away from the wedding, and judging from this fitting, I didn’t have a dress.

“I haven’t gained any weight, Sarah,” I replied. “I’ve been too stressed to eat. If anything, I should have lost weight because of that!”

Sarah shrugged, barely concealing a smirk that was plastered onto her face.

“Well, I’ll try to fix it, but with the wedding so close, I can’t make any promises. I have other clients waiting for their orders, too, Jess.”

Her words rang loud and clear in my head as I drove away from her office.

And then it hit me — this wasn’t an accident. I recalled the way she spoke to me, and the tone in her voice. There was no remorse in her mistake. There was no mix-up in measurements. There was no weight gain with me.

This was deliberate, and Sarah had made the dress too small on purpose.

“I don’t know what to do,” I told Michael when he got home that evening.

“Show me the dress?” he asked, pouring himself a glass of water.

“What! No!” I exclaimed. “The dress may be a mess, but it’s bad luck for you to see!”

“Look, why don’t you take the dress to Mrs. Lawson? She’s my mom’s friend, and she does all her alterations. She’s making Mom’s dress for the wedding, too.”

So, I gathered the awful dress and went to Mrs. Lawson, who was a retired seamstress with a reputation for miracles.

“Oh, honey,” she said when I walked in. “Michael phoned me and told me all about the mess. But I’ve seen the worst and made it a hundred times better.”

“This might be tricky, though,” I said, showing her the dress.

“Honey, I’ve seen it all, trust me. Let’s make this work,” she chuckled.

Together, we transformed the original design into something completely new. A chic, short, cocktail-style dress that was bold, unconventional, and a bit edgy for a wedding.

But it was absolutely stunning. It was everything Sarah’s dress wasn’t: fun, flirty, and perfectly me.

When it was time to walk down the aisle, my heart raced. I stood in the bridal suite of the wedding venue and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked beautiful. I felt beautiful.

As my dad walked into the room to get me, his jaw dropped.

“My darling,” he said. “You look incredible! Wow!”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I know it’s not what we all envisioned me wearing for my wedding, but it’s been the best surprise. I feel like a bride.”

“That’s the only thing that matters, darling,” he said.

Soon, my entrance music began, and goosebumps appeared all over my body as a classical version of a Lana Del Rey song took over the room.

Heads turned.

And I felt the buzz of admiration follow me as people watched me walk in. I knew that my dress was a hit.

When I got closer to Michael, his eyes widened, and his smile took over his face. I knew then that the man I was about to marry fell in love with me all over again.

But before I took my place next to Michael, I turned to Sarah, wanting to see her expression first.

Her face was priceless: she was pale and shocked. I knew she had expected to see me in tears, humiliated by her sabotage and wearing that horrible dress she had designed.

Instead, I was glowing, smiling from ear to ear.

The ceremony went off without a hitch, Michael’s vows leaving me in tears and my heart full of love for the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

But then came the reception.

Michael and I were mingling with our guests when Sarah cornered me.

“Jess, what happened to the dress? Where’s my original design? Why did you change it?” she asked, trying to hide her confusion.

I grinned.

“Oh, I thought I’d take your design and make it better! Remember, you weren’t even sure that you could do anything about it. And I was bursting out of it because it was at least two sizes too small.”

“So, that’s it? You just threw away my hard work?” she gasped. “That’s low!”

“No, Sarah, your work is the foundation of this dress. It’s just a hundred times better because the woman who fixed it wanted me to look and feel beautiful on my wedding day.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Around us, guests kept complimenting my dress, calling it unique and stunning.

Sarah had no choice but to stand there and listen.

“Come on, love,” Michael called to me. “Let’s do our first dance so that I can really get into the buffet after! The roast beef is to die for!”

“I’m coming,” I smiled, finally happy.

What would you have done?

6-Year-Old Boy Dies And Leaves Blue Stain On Carpet: Years Later, Mom Makes Heart-Wrenching Discovery

Moms have a lot on their plates every day.

Parents have a lot on their plates and rarely get a break because they have to juggle numerous tasks throughout the day, such as washing the kids’ sticky hands and faces, folding their laundry, making sure they have breakfast and lunch, and getting them ready for school.

No matter how hard they try, there’s bound to be some kind of disaster waiting around the corner, like a glass of milk knocked over, a toy you accidentally stepped on, or a stain somewhere.

Few mothers can afford the luxury of a short shower before turning in or taking some time for themselves.

Some things we take for granted as parents are touched upon in a recent piece by Heather Duckworth, a mother who has been through it all.

The messes kids make as they mature before our eyes into the persons we’ve always imagined they’ll become are an integral part of that process.

It’s important to remember that our children will look back on the messes we cleaned up as adults and use those memories as the greatest testament to the childhood we gave them, so it’s worth the effort to find the joy in the midst of the chaos.

Regrettably, not all women get to experience the turmoil and clutter that children create.

Likewise, not all parents are able to enjoy the joy that children bring into their lives.

The popular post by Heather titled “The Blue Stain” resonated with many new and expectant mothers.

Heather’s heart started pounding as she scrubbed the grout her daughter had formed with the slime, remembering the disaster she had to remove all those years ago.

After a long day of running around after her two-year-old triplets and four-year-old older brother, picking up toys, and making sure no one got hurt in the piles of laundry she couldn’t finish that day, this mother would reflect, “My hands were full, but so was my heart.”

Before turning in for the night, Heather and her two sons danced to the radio while they tidied up the playroom.

Nobody could have predicted that it would be the last time they laughed so hard for a while.

It was just as she was settling in for a good night’s sleep herself that she heard one of the lads remark, “Uh, Oh,” and she saw the huge blue stain that would haunt her dreams forever.

The pen one of the triplets was holding burst in his grasp, spraying ink everywhere. His hands, face, and pajamas were all blue, giving the impression that the tiny boy was a smurf.

While she watched, Heather felt like a bad mother and began to get angry.

She hadn’t been angry with her son, but she did hold herself responsible because she had left the pen where youngsters could easily access it. Her feelings got the best of her.

“I gasped as I saw blue splatters across the floor and a thick pool of ink sinking into our carPet – our brand new carPet. I quickly yelled for my husband, who had been doing the dishes, to come and help me. I instantly felt so upset as I grabbed my son and took him to the bathroom to clean him up and my husband started scrubbing those bright blue stains on our carPet.” 

Heather’s feelings of annoyance and fury would always resurface whenever she saw the stain on the fresh new carPet. All the wonderful times she had with her sons were symbolized by the stain until the day it was finally removed.

The youngster who spilled blue paint on the carPet was diagnosed with cancer a month later, and he died two years later, leaving the stain as a memento of their time together.

“It was still there . . . and now . . . it was a constant reminder of my son. It was a constant reminder of my frustration over something so trivial . . . something so unimportant in the scheme of life.

That blue stain was a constant reminder that life is messy, but that’s what makes it worth living. A constant reminder to not sweat the small stuff. A constant reminder that ‘things’ aren’t important, but people are. A constant reminder that accidents happen. A constant reminder to let go of the little things and hang on tight to what is important.”

She tried to cover up the vivid blue stain with the furniture, but every time she cleaned the room, there it was, staring at her, reminding her of her loss and the sorrow she was still feeling.

Heather’s story is meant to remind us of how often we take life for granted and fail to appreciate the little things that give our lives meaning. She feels the need to inform all the moms out there that the dirty laundry and strewn about toys are what really make the house a place of comfort and safety for their families.

Those messes, made by the people who matter most to us, are what make our lives worthwhile, as Heather puts it, because there will come a day when we will miss those moments very much indeed. “I would have a million blue ink stains on my carPet if it meant I could have one more day with my son.”

Her advice to moms: don’t let yourself get so wrapped up in the world that you miss out on quality time with your kids. Life is too short to be wasted scrubbing stains, so prioritize what matters most!

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