Gay Wedding Consultants: Male or Female, which do you, prefer?

So the wedding dress hunt has begun. I pose this question to you because I believe I experience one of each this weekend. I had three appointments this weekend and all very different experiences.

With my trusty sidekick and bluntly honest friend Avin and my wedding planner assistant and home girl in tow we arrive at my first appointment.

My appointment was with Rooooobert who came highly recommended and I loved insistently. This was a chain store and by the end of the weekend I realized the convenient of going to a chain store for your gown: A – your size is available and 2 – one stop shopping. So we pick a few things I wanted to try and left the rest to Roooooobert. And he was absolutely fabulous, he brought me stuff to complement my body and said no that doesn’t work take it off, and knew what he was talking about. He never made me feel fat, discourage or offended. I actually left with a few possibles in mind and bridesmaid options.

Second appointment was much different. Unfortunately my advice team had to go and my mother was trying her hardest to get to me. I started without her (first mistake). This appointment was a “boutique” and I know boutiques may not have as many options as a chain store but I did expect them to have options in all sizes. So this very nice lady who I believe to be gay with a Boston/Maine accent assists me. She proceeds to bring me every horrid beaded, pleated, ruffle, puffy, tent she could find. Now I understand that my usual 10-size body is not the same in a wedding dress but how dare you bring me a 16 and tell me to try it on. Are you fucking out of your mind? (Sorry excuse the language I am having a flash back) And why is it all the cute more modern dresses you only have in an 8 or smaller? So now that I am near melt down point and my mother still isn’t there, she has the nerve to bring me this dress that’s train reaches to Mexico (her exact words) and insist I parade out in the store to the three way mirror to see it. I almost cried standing there all by myself those other women looking at me. Me looking like a little kid playing dress up in her mother’s closet. I kindly told this nice lady I am done, don’t bring me another thing.

So as I think back on this nice lady I think maybe she is a little butch. Her oddly block shaped royal blue sweater with black slacks and black clunky loafers. Even more strange her jewelry selection, her bracelets were big and everywhere, nothing went together. And there was no make up. And maybe that is why she didn’t know how to pick a dress flattering to my body type.

I say all of this to say that I love gay men always has always will. So what’s a girl to do?

End this blog cause its getting too long and keep on the dress hunt.