I had recently turned 17 when my boyfriend proposed to me – which was nothing more than asking me in bed one day if I would marry him. We went and got a ring, and my mom raced me down to Lazarus to their Bridal Department. It was a beautiful day, probably one of the best memories I have with my mom, as a teen. I put the gown on, one that I had fantasized about from all the wedding magazines. I was on a dais, looking at myself in a three-fold mirror and felt like I was on top of the world. Intuitively, even though I didn’t understand what this word meant back then, I knew I would never wear the dress.