I wore my Grandmother’s dress at my wedding. I had it altered by a Korean lady in Wisconsin. She was an expert in lace and bead work, an artist really. She told me to wear falsies on my wedding day, as she couldn't take the dress in anymore without ruining the integrity of the garment. As if the dress would shout “I beg your pardon you flat chested ninny, get your boy chest out of here before I do something I will regret!”
It was ok though, I had been picked on before, I could certainly handle anything a seamstress could dish. I just yanked up my shirt and flashed her my itty-bitties Jerry Springer style and told her to 'bring it beeeeyotch!'. She lunged for me with scissors in one hand and long red finger nails scratching for my face. I threw a nearby container of tiny pearl beads into her eyes and judo chopped her left shoulder. "How ya like me now?" I yelled while my Grandma tried to pull us apart.
Ok really, I just wore a padded bra.
Thank you Jennie for helping me 'remember' this story and KTJ for the totally best wedding photo I own.