Think "The Scream"

If I had to give a visual for how I felt most of today, I think Edvard Munch's "The Scream" would be most appropriate.

I picked up my dress from the seamstress today. She fucked up. big time. It's too tight in the back (as in the zipper is exposed because it's too tight and it gives me there ever evil back crack), and still not sitting flat on my chest in the front. She didn't seem to think there was much she could do, if she took it out, the back would be looser, but the front would gape again (seriously, whatever fucker designed the dress was clearly unaware that the general population of women do not have M as their cup size...) So after bawling hysterically for several hours (don't judge me...if you were in my position, I bet you would too!), I have decided to take the dress to another alterations place tomorrow and pray they can fix it. If not...I don't know what the fuck I'll do. Roll up in a corner and cry, I suppose. Or not eat until the wedding.

So, of course, this catastrophy totally fucks up my plans of not freaking out over things that aren't done yet, finding yet another goddamn dress for leaving the wedding (because, for some reason I FAIL to understand, I can't leave in my dress. My dress that I will only wear one day for about 7 hours. My dress that doesn't fucking fit. Whoever made up that rule can shove it. Though, I don't know how I'd sit in a car in my dress...even if it did fit).

I wish I had this
shirt. I'd wear it for at least the next 10 days.