Do you really want to go where "everyone knows your name"?

You know how if you went to Cheers, everyone knows your name? I’ve personally always wanted to find a place where I could walk in and have people light up with joy after recognizing my face, knowing that I’m a “regular”. Well, it’s happened... finally. It may have taken a good two and half years of seeing the same overworked Starbucks baristas at the same tired location, but I’m now reaping the benefits of becoming a recognizable regular; however, I think it comes with a hefty price tag... and when I say “hefty”, I mean, this desired stardom is going to make me fat.

I’ve gone to the Starbucks in my office building regularly for over two years. The staff at that location has remained fairly consistent, but they also seem consistently annoyed with the early morning coffee rush. Starbucks is notorious for its chipper employees who brew your latte with a smile, but this specific coffee crew is kind of like the black sheep of the Starbucks enterprise as they avoid casual conversation and conveniently forget that you like room in your coffee for cream. This unfriendly vibe instantly crushed my dreams of ever being recognized and treated like a cast member of Cheers, but then about a month ago, my years of smiling and good consumer behavior paid off as one of the baristas asked, “hey, you’re in here a lot, what’s your name?” SCORE. Ever since then, the Cheers theme song plays as soon as I enter the store, and I’ve already started to reap the major benefits of being a preferred customer.

However, I’m not only counting those benefits in money, but also in calories. Now when I order my “usual” grande, raspberry, nonfat, no whip mocha, I’m instantly upgraded to a venti. For you Starbucks novices out there – a “grande” equals a medium sized drink and a “venti” equals a BIG GULP. Although I’m grateful for the free perk, I find myself finishing the entire bucket of liquid calories even if I’m full to the brim with espresso. At least its non-fat, right?

And this morning... oh boy... where do I begin? I ordered a regular cup of joe and splurged on their low fat blueberry coffee cake (I just have to note its “low fat” because you’ll start to think that wedding dress sizes may be more reasonable than I made them out to be considering I drink venti mochas and chow down on coffee cake – I swear, I’m a healthy eater and those dresses are sized way too small!!) Anyway, when I was handed the bag with the LOW fat pastry, I noticed it was heavier than usual and with a wink the barista said, “just take it”. What did I “just take”? A FREE piece of extra coffee cake, that’s what.

Although that’s an incredibly kind gesture and something I should start getting used to as a recognizable, loved, respected regular, its just starting to become overwhelming... and fattening. And it’s not only the freebies, it’s the attention I’m getting – the other day, I walked in to the store to get my afternoon coffee and was immediately greeted by a high five... I’m not even joking. Again, a very nice gesture, but I realized that when it comes to being at work and wanting to get away to my coffee escape, I really DON'T want everyone to know my name.

What’s a girl to do? My new found celebrity will stay with me until I start sporting a wig and sunglasses or decide to boycott my mochas... both of which won’t happen. So as I adjust to a life where “everyone knows my name”, I’ll just have to remember to appreciate the recognition and promise myself that I won’t let this attention go to my head... or to my butt.

Too many high fives, mochas and pieces of coffee cake will that to you, you know.

To be a 10, You Must Wear a 10...

With wedding plans in full swing, I can’t help but to have “bridal brain” as I continue to meet with various vendors, thumb through stacks of wedding magazines and shape up the ever-growing guest list. Up until this point, everything has made sense to me. I get the importance of “mood lighting”. I understand you’ll need to cough up a hefty down payment for flowers without a petal or blossom in sight. I know that you have to send “courtesy invites” to those crazy relatives who never go to any event, but get offended when they don’t receive an invitation that ends up costing more than the cheap gift they’ll end up sending you months after the big day.

But there is one thing that I don’t get and never will. I don’t even think there is a logical explanation for this one bridal phenomenon as it’s so illogical that I dare someone to make rational sense of it. What I don’t get is why wedding dresses are always 2 to 3 sizes larger than the bride’s actual size, causing an already manic, stressed woman to obsess over weight that she truly does not have. Who came up with this cruel concept? Probably a man, that’s who.

I just recently started searching for my dress and I eagerly anticipated the experience up until I was locked in dressing room with my mom, wearing only my unmentionables, trying to squeeze into a dress that was a whole two sizes bigger than my normal pant size. I felt like a stuffed turkey as my mom kneaded down my buns and told me to “suck it in”. Suck what in?!?! I couldn’t even breathe!

Prior to this traumatic experience, I always assumed “sample” sizes were supposed to be these huge potato sacks that you’re forced to pin back with huge clamps to give you some kind of idea of what the shape of the dress could really be. Alas, I needed the jaws of life to remove myself from the darn dresses I tried on, and the best was that there was a beautiful dress that came in a sample size of 2... T-W-O. Ha. The dress would fit me if I put one on each thigh.

Luckily, I’m the kind of bride who can get over the size of my dress (eventually... perhaps after this post) and understand it’s not the number on the tag, its how you look in it. But what about those girls who can’t look past sizes? You put a self conscious bride-to-be in a dressing room with a 360 degree mirror and a dress that would fit an American Girl Doll, she goes from Betty Bridal to Ann O. Rexic.

And don’t get me started on 360 degree mirrors in dressing rooms. I recently saw angles of myself that I never knew existed and wish I was never introduced to, and then as I scramble to cover up, I get a 360 degree view of myself struggling to fit a dress over my hips. If I were to open a bridal shop, I would replace dress sizes with compliments, like “size HOTTIE” or “size WOW, YOU’RE THIN”, and curtain off all mirrors in the 360 degree house of horrors and only unveil them once the bride is fully in her dress and ready to see the total package without being forced to view that unsightly birthmark on her left butt cheek.

But let me tell you once you find a dress that fits over your curvy hips and hugs you just right, it’s the best moment... ever. And so what if you can’t sit down in your dress because it will cut off your air supply? You look goooood, girl.

So short story LONG, wedding dress shopping has left me a bit discouraged, but more importantly has left me bewildered as I don’t understand why dress manufacturers willingly add to a bride’s stress with their wacky notions of size. I know I'll personally move on from this disturbing phenomenon and accept that if I have to wear a 10 to look like a 10, then so be it!

(I swear I don't have to wear a 10, it was a just a play on words to make my point... but I wouldn't be embarrassed if I had to wear that size, which I actually just might... but I'm not officially confirming that... SEE... this is what dress shopping does to you!!)