Yesterday I went for my first dress fitting with the seamstress.
Her name is Karen and she's about 60.
Midway through pinning my dress Karen reeled back and told me not to panic.
"It's just a little blood, and it's my blood, so don't worry. I'll be right back."
I'm sorry?...What did you just say? Blood? Blood on my house payment priced never-before-worn wedding gown?
Oh, but it's not my blood so that's good news.
I don't care who's blood it is get it off!!!!
Karen came back with a little wet paper towel and began to scrub at the stain.
I stayed focused on my happy place and tried to imagine plan B.
Walking down the aisle in a wetsuit? That would be funny.
Maybe I could borrow my mom's old gown. No - the cat had kittens on it a few years ago. It's already been ruined by cat blood.
Poor cat just wanted something that smelled like her favorite person.
Now my mom has no wedding dress to try to pass on.
As I was trying to figure out how not to be on the 5 o'clock news ("Tonight at 5, bride-to-be chokes seamstress at local bridal shop..."), Karen finished her scrubbing and told me "all gone!"
Sure enough, I looked back and saw nothing but a small wet spot on the satin.
"Did you know that if you get your own blood on something, your own saliva can always get it out?" she asked me.
No, Karen. No I did not know that.
If only the cat had known too.
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