Far, far away, in a time long forgotten, a maiden sat in her room and vowed to lose weight. Her head was full of images of her handsome betrothed swirling her around the dance floor, as her dress billowed around her. People would gasp in awe at, not only at her enviable figure, but at the delicate material dancing with every move.
This maiden had forgotten two vital facts though; she didn’t have the honour of a knight and could not keep vows. (NOTE: Well, wedding vows of course, but not vows that involved avoiding cake.) The second thing was that her betrothed could not dance.
The following is about the day, the still slightly plump maiden, found her dress.
She wanted a big dress. She wanted it tight at the top and flared at the bottom. She wanted straps and would not be swayed on this. Hours of pouring over pictures of beautiful ladies in beautiful dresses had come to one conclusion; the dress that would transform her into a bride would be a ball gown. Of course she felt safe in the knowledge that the dress would choose her, because that’s what happens. Right?
The seamstress began to pull an array of extravagant gowns from pegs and arranged them neatly in the changing room. The room itself (so full of white dresses it was like being immersed in a snow drift) certainly felt like it had a spark of magic. (NOTE: It was definitely magic and not the Prosecco she clutched lightly in her hand.)
Then the first dress was on, it was her dream. It swished in just the right way and she was sure the jewels on the bodice would sparkle perfectly. This would be the dress that chose her, the dress with just the right amount of magic to make her the fairest of them all except, when she was revealed in the long mirror she most definitely was not the fairest of anywhere.
This ball gown had taken a foot from her limited height and planted it squarely on her mid-riff. Not only had this dress not chosen her, it had rejected her with an insult. The kindly seamstress asked if she could select some gowns for her. Dejected, the maiden agreed.
Next was a mermaid style. She had never considered being a mermaid, but they were beautiful. Right? It felt good until it was done up and she was thrust before the mirror. It hugged all the right places, some of the magic in the dress was spot on - but it hadn’t chosen her completely. Almost the fairest in the land was not the look she was going for and she was most definitely not destined to be a mermaid on her big day.
With that dress tossed aside, a little less forcefully than the first, the next two were also not quite right. The lace one with the long sleeves was locked away deep in her memory, lest it damage her confidence any further.
Finally, the seamstress produced a plain dress in a shiny ivory the maiden immediately disliked. The maiden didn’t want to try it on but the seamstress pleaded with her. Her mother, rather less politely, demanded it.
She reluctantly slipped into it. A simple empire line, pulled to the side at the waist by an intricate broach. She grudgingly admitted that she quite liked the broach.
Then came the big reveal. To her shock she was not only the fairest of them all, she was without a doubt, a bride. She twirled and danced and felt the magic of the dress transforming her. Her mother cried and smiled as the seamstress placed a flowing veil on her head.
Soon it was time for her to remove the magical garment, but not before a deal had been bartered and the dress was hers. It was only once she had returned to her uniform of jeans and jumper that the maiden had a revelation.
There is no such thing as a magical dress that will transform any maiden into a bride – it is the bride that transforms the dress. Don’t get caught up in being a Princess or a mermaid or anything other than the fairest in the land. Go into that shop with an open mind and an open heart and you will become a bride in the most unexpected way.
