Well readers...I got revenge! Woo! So here's the story:
Yesterday was the day I FINALLY got to pick up my wedding dress! So of course, being the stereotypically enthusiastic bride that I am (**note sarcasm), had completely forgotten about all the indiscretions the bridal shop had made with my gown. Let me also point out I had my two prosecutors in tow, Sarah and Kirsten.
So obviously knowing that I would be in to pick up my dress because they had given me a beautiful peach card with nice printing stating: "Pick up April 23", they would have my dress wrapped up and ready to go! FALSE!
Instead, we were greeted by their 'receptionist' who I have talked to probably, oh I don't know, a zillion times, and she politely asked for my name/reason why I was there. That was nice of her. After much shuffling and rustling in 'the back' (Let me digress for just a moment. When people refer to 'the back', I always think that they are just going back there for yet another sip of coffee and catch up on the latest employee gossip, rather than sorting through stock and actually fulfilling the client's polite request. But hey, that's just me) she emerges dress in hand! So remembering that I hadn't been in since I had my bustle put on, she begins to remove the gown from the nice, quality, plastic garment bag and shoving into a sweetly coloured garbage bag. 'Quality' service right there.
At this point, scary images form in my brain of bustles gone wrong. A.K.A Cinderella's step-sisters (**See above picture). So I rush over, and sure enough, the bustle they added created quite the 'lump', if you will, in the rear region. NOT. GOOD. But whatever, because I knew there was a willing and able seamstress in Fort St John that could fix this fiasco.
The garbage bag was a nice touch, by the way, because I got to feel like a professional sausage maker walking back to my car. No joke, my dress looked like a GIANT sausage.
After a heartfelt email from my mother this morning, however, the service at the shop magically increased!
So I went back, and needless to say, I'm one satisfied step-sister! The shoe fits, my friends. The shoe fits. (If you don't get this last riddle... well, think a little harder)