I’m sure I looked like a blubbering idiot, but I couldn’t help it. My husband, Shawn, and I had run out for a quick shopping trip with our daughter, Shana, to buy a prom dress. It wasn’t supposed to be a major ordeal, but after coming up empty at three mall stores, we reluctantly found ourselves at a fancy little dress boutique. Shawn was sitting in the dad chair, reading the dad magazines, when Shana came from around the corner and even he got a little teary-eyed, too. We ignored her dirty face and ratty, unwashed hair following a softball game, cosmic bowling, and an up-all-night slumber party to see our baby girl looking suddenly all grown up.
She had on a beautifully embroidered, butter-colored satin dress, not very promy, but it was stunning. It was obvious that the nice saleslady picked that one first for a reason. She had us pegged from the moment we walked in, and put us on her “I’m going to sell that girl a dress today” radar. Roxanne had another thing coming, though. I knew I couldn’t afford anything in there, the balance in my checking account was so close to zero I didn’t even look at any of the dangling, laminated price tags. So I stayed calm as the dresses kept coming. A cupcake bright pink taffeta with a full skirt, a pure white wedding-like gown, a long, skinny orange silk that made Shana look like a popsicle, and a really tight red spandex number that made her look like a, well, you know. After totally messing up the dressing room, Shana hit the jackpot when she slipped on a gorgeous satin lavender dress with black and silver beading. It laced up in the back and fit her perfectly. She looked like a princess. Roxanne just lit up and said that it wouldn’t even need any alterations. She didn’t have a clue. We’re not worried about the alterations, lady. We’re just browsing.
Shana kept mentioning that the store only sells one dress style per high school per season, so that no two girls would ever show up wearing the same thing. According to Shana, that would be a nightmare. Roxanne thought so, too. I was thinking that they were both insane when a girl walked in to buy her dress, only to find out that it had already been sold. She had a meltdown right there on the floor. As the girl’s mom rushed over to console her, Roxanne looked over at me with an “I told you so” smile. After Little Miss Sunshine calmed down, her mom sidled up to me like I was her new best friend and desperately explained that there are no dresses left out there and we are all too late for the dress search marathon. Just for a second, I felt a tiny bit of angst – was I too late, too? I prayed that Roxanne didn’t notice. She could sell a dress to one of these lunatics today, but not to me.
I had gotten off pretty easy with the fancy dresses quota since Shana started high school, only one formal in the past three years. We scored big for that one when we found a designer dress at a resale shop about four hours before her Cotillion dance. The zipper was broken, so I had to pin in the poor kid for the night, but she looked great. Her Homecoming dances have been themed costume parties, so I got another break there, too. One year it was “New York” and Shana dressed up like a taxi. She made it herself and spoke with a really thick Bronx accent. This year the theme was “Enchanted Forrest” and Shana went as a bumble bee. She looked so adorable covered in huge yellow and black stripes, a little stinger and a floppy chrome antenna. She reminded me of John Belushi in that old Saturday Night Live killer bee skit, buzzing around and around.
So I guess I wasn’t prepared when Shana begged, “Mom, I have to have this dress! Itfitsperfectlyit’sonlyfourhundreddollarsandIloveitplease. It’s a once in a lifetime event.” “I know, honey, it’s just beautiful. Wait, did you say four hundred dollars? Are you crazy? This is just prom, Shana, junior prom. My wedding dress was less than four hundred dollars. Now, put it back and we’ll find something somewhere else.” She looked devastated and slowly sulked back to the dressing room. A few minutes later from behind the door I heard her sadly whisper, “Mom, I was one of twelve bees at Homecoming.”
I took a deep breath and said, “Okay, Roxanne, ring it up." |
