THE DECISION OF A LIFETIME


Becky had saved her pocket change little by little over the course of the previous three months for that moment. She had envisioned how it would turn out many times before. She had even endured scavenging, surprised delights, and stomach-dropping disappointments.


After many let-downs from sixteen different wedding dress shops, downtrodden, she entered in the “Le Petite Dress” store, expecting the same horrible outcome. The store smelled like stale perfume, musky and hanging in the air, encircling the expensive wedding dresses. Light soft-spoken elevator music played from the ceiling’s sound speakers. In the center were plump beige arm-chairs with accompanying end-tables (this was where the victim’s family and friends would dawdle). There was a single, twenty-foot long rack of wedding dresses on the left and right side of the store.


Sighing, Becky looked through the left rack and pushed aside every dress that horrified her. “Honestly, who wants to look like a cream puff on their wedding day?” Becky thought to herself. And then she had found the perfect wedding dress. It did not have the puffy sleeves or the stupid rainbow sequins, but it was attractive, simple, and chic. “Wow, this is it” Becky had thought, sure that she had made the decision of a lifetime.


“Excuse me, but I believe that is taken” said a woman’s smooth, silky voice behind her.


Flabbergasted, Becky squealed at the dresses in front of her, “Taken? What the hell do you mean by taken? Isn’t this supposed to be the merchandise rack?”


She wheeled around and glared at the woman. This bleach-blond top-heavy real-life Barbie doll removed her oversized sunglasses and glared back at Becky. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, tan, plastic, and very rich.


“Oh yes, well, I have already claimed that gorgeous dress which you hold in your grubby hands. Besides, my dear, I don’t think that you can even afford such quality” said Malibu Barbie while waving her gaudy ring-infested hands.


“What? You’re kidding me, right? You mean to tell me that after scouring sixteen other stores and being disappointed in every one of them, that this dress—the perfect one—isn’t even available to buy? And you mean to tell me that after saving every last penny I have had for the last three months, I have nothing to show for my efforts? While you miss hoity-toity, can buy any dress in your power?” Becky exalted. With a furrowed brow, she flared her nostrils at the snooty woman and waited for a response.


The woman furrowed her fixed brows back at Becky and sighed. “Well missy if you really want it, then fine, it’s yours. You can buy it. Besides, it was too cheap for my likings anyway.”


Malibu Barbie had managed to save her pride and hand over the perfect wedding dress to a delighted Becky at the same time.



By: Sarah Cohen, 2007