Oh how you mock me, plain white dress

I rant and rave in my Confessions of an Ungrateful Bridesmaid. The dress, the shower, the shady bachelorette party. It's excellent fodder for the snarky likes of me.

But can I tell you a secret?

I only mock the bridesmaid dress, because there's only one dress I truly want. And it's not lavender or butter or cornflower. It's white.

There is nothing I want more than an over-priced white gown that I will only ever wear once in my life. And while there are opportunities to turn it into a bassinet dust ruffle, I imagine there won't be enough Scarlett O'Hara in me to take the shears to it.

I want a dress that my mother and sister will weep over. Possibly because they will hate it, but more likely because of the look I imagine I will have on my face.

I want a dress that will trip my father, just a little, just enough to make us giggle and relax.

I want a dress that will cherish a tiny stain from a champagne toast.

I want a dress with a hem filthy dirty from people dancing all over it.

I want a dress without crinoline, because my ass is big enough.

I want a dress that will allow me to breathe, so I can laugh.

I want a dress that will be held by Love.

I know, it's not the snark and sass you're used to and lucky for you it's not often I delve into silly girliness.

It's just tonight, I imagine life with a vacuum-packed white dress in the closet. And the road that leads to it.