At least it wasn't a cheetah print

The dramatic blog post about trying on dresses was pretty dramatic, but not that realistic.

My dresses fit just fine; both of them. I only had one panicky moment where the pins the seamstress put in the shoulders stabbed my neck as I tried to wrangle my way out of it. I managed somehow to avoid bleeding out on it. The moment passed. The other gave me pause when the zipper was stuck, thinking "Oh, God, it doesn't fit and it's five weeks 'til I have to wear this thing, I'll only be able to eat crackers and water, and then the OTHER dress won't fit," but Mom came in and unfolded the material and it fit just fine.

Whew.

The most dramatic moment wasn't about my dress. It was about the girl's dress in front of me at the seamstress's house. We could hear her talking from the other room about the material not quite being the same as "in the picture," so she shouldn't be expecting the same look. There was a lot of energetic confirmation and then the door opened and the girls left.

Walking in, the book was still on the table -- it was a book of prom dresses.

Prom dresses my mom would've committed me to a convent for looking at, had I been the 17 year old begging for one.

You guys. The dress would look good on Kate Moss on a skinny day, maybe. It was that good. The girls who walked out weren't so much Kate Moss look-alikes. That dress ...! Think skin tight. Think open sides, scandalously low back, v-neck to the mid-stomach. Think material of something shiny and prom-like. Think early '90s rap videos.

Then think of this: "Oh, I keep telling her it won't look like that. Especially since she wants me to use this ..." she said, pulling out a bag of material resembling fake brown fur. And not like, rabbit fur coat fur. I'm talking short-haired, cat-that-got-electrocuted-in-a-bathtub fur.

Here's where Moms everywhere should pull their daughters closer and say "honey, you're beautiful. But no one is beautiful enough to pull that off. No one."