Free How I Planned Your Wedding by Susan Wiggs Page B

news is, the mom has to wear something. And okay, I’ll just say it. Reality bites. You know which reality I mean—the one that glares at you with the unblinking clarity of a three-way mirror in the dressing room.
    Most of us don’t spend our time in the limelight on a day-to-day basis. So when it smacks you upside the head that you’re going to have to look fabulous on your daughter’s Big Day, you start to fret. You look in that mirror, illuminated by the least-flattering light ever to beam down on a bulge of cellulite, and fretfulness sets in.
    While your size-2 daughter is being outfitted as the Princess Bride, you’re feeling like Jabba the Hutt. You start thinking about the thousands of pictures that will be taken, and all of a sudden liposuction doesn’t seem like such an unreasonable proposition.
    Time for another little consultation with your Common Sense Fairy. Remember that although you’re an important part of this day, you’re not the most important part. And here’s another little tidbit. Do yourself a favor and go look at some photos of people’s weddings. The bride is always beautiful, isn’t she? And the bride’s mother looks just magnificent, doesn’t she? Even if she’s, um, gravitationally challenged and wearing a chiffon monstrosity of a dress, she looks great in the pictures. Here’s the key—a photo of someone who is happy and having a great time is always going to look good. Genuine emotion trumps cosmetic surgery every time.
    However, you do need a dress. But I’ll tell you what you do not need. You do not need a chiffon monstrosity. You don’t need a drapey muumuu or a bell-sleeved tunic covering up your arms. You don’t need something edgy and loud and fashion-forward that calls attention to itself. And you don’t—God forbid—want to clash or compete with the groom’s mother.
    Here’s what you do want—you want to look age-appropriate but stylish enough. You want to feel comfortable even six hours into the festivities. You want to dance.
    I’m a little out of my depth, offering style tips. As a writer, I tendto spend long hours alone in a room, wearing a sweatsuit, fuzzy slippers and headphones. (Sorry about that visual.) I pretty much have the fashion sense of a gas station attendant. And I’d rather watch moss grow on a barn roof than spend a day shopping.
    But I’m a quick study and I know how to listen and go to the experts. I’m also a champ at web surfing. So my own personal quest for the dress started there. Once the princess picks her colors, head out on a web safari.
    Stick to the palette. This doesn’t mean you have to match. You simply don’t want to clash. If you’re as challenged as I am, check the color wheel. Or better yet, call up your most fashionable friends and ask for their advice.
    Steer clear of dedicated bridal stores. No offense to your local “Gowns’R’Us” outlet, but the mother-of-the-bride dresses tend to be, um…dowdylicious, to coin a term. Nothing screams “I hate my Teutonic butcher’s wife arms” more than a claret-colored, bell-sleeved tunic.
    Try some off-the-beaten-track shops and designers. Try picking the brain of your daughter’s fashionista bridesmaid who works at Nordstrom. Once you narrow down your list to a few options, go ahead and order a few (make sure the store has a fair return policy because you probably won’t hit paydirt the first time out). And run them by the princess. Trust me: she has better fashion sense than you do. I ended up wearing a fun but age-appropriate dress in a subtle silk moire print by a newish designer called Leifsdottir. The aforementioned fashionista even found it for me half off at Bloomingdale’s, and I felt great in it, even with my brutish arms showing.
    Here’s a little shopping secret I’m happy to share. You know those shoes? Those incredible, cute, danceable shoes? (Hint: Google “Hey Lady” shoes: www.shopheylady.com.) They do not make you look fat. So go ahead and