Operation Bridezilla, and the strange concept of wedding planning
*Operation Bridezilla post series chronicles my half-assed attempt to plan a wedding, and not make it look like it was half-assed. If you experience general feeling of nausea and heartburn around all things white and poofy, you may want to skip this section. I have been taking Tums for months now. They do not seem to help. You can read more about my engagement here, and my initial dress shopping attempt here.
Since my engagement, and my first experience dress shopping, I have long bought a dress. The winning garment was primarily purchased for the “ass factor”, and came from The Brides’ Project – a store that takes donated used wedding gowns, and gives all of the proceeds from sales to cancer charities. [After I posted about this store on Facebook, many women reached out to me, saying they had no idea such a thing even existed, and that they can donate their wedding dress now, which has been collecting dust in their closet for years. So, that’s my public service announcement – if you have a wedding dress to donate, please do!]
It was September. I felt so productive having bought a dress for the event in June, that I proceeded to do absolutely nothing until February. Well, that, and our initial venue fell through quite… last minute, and the priority became to find a place to live before we find a place to get married.
I gave finding a venue a half-hearted attempt in the late fall.
“When is the wedding?”
“June 2017 or 2018?”
Oh, you should have heard the suppressed laughter in sales associates’ voices.
Fortunately, we found a unique little place close to the forest, AND with a big enough backyard for a wedding. Venue – check. Adios, laughter-suppressing venue-pushing assholes.
Now about the dress…
Wedding dresses are adored and fetishized, despite violating every single principle of normal human clothes wearing experience.
It’s (often) white, hence, according to my mother, impractical. No one buys white towels or even table clothes in Russia, because stupid. In Russia’s defense, no one buys a wedding dress a year before the event either.
Buying a dress in September, I have experienced many concerned looks on sales associates’ faces. “Oh, it’s in June!?”, they raised their eyebrows.
“That’s soon! Our dresses are made from handspun silk in the mountains of Tibet. The blind monks breed the silk worms for each dress. Then the dress itself takes a while to make.” [Well, that part is obvious, of course, with the monks being blind and all].
“And don’t forget alterations! Those take at least two months. How much weight are you planning to lose before the wedding?”
Umm… I wasn’t planning on losing any, but the pressure of having to fit into a very specific and very fitting garment eight months from now noticeable raises my heart rate.
My approach to outfits fitting or not fitting tends to be pretty simple – I wake up, (walk around naked for few hours), and then pull a pair of jeans from my closet. Sometimes, they don’t fit, so I put that pair back, and pull another pair, and remind myself to eat less cookies. That’s about it.
Natural seasonal fluctuations in my cookie-eating patterns aside, I can’t imagine the changes in body size and shape that would warrant two months on alterations. Perhaps, if I lose 20 pounds (from stress, no doubt), grow a foot, AND sprout an extra arm?
Let’s not forget the overemphasizing of the dress on the day of. It’s like Oscars, but without the diffusion of attention on many actors and actresses. Instead, you are the only nominee for all the categories.
“Don’t forget to put a hook in your ceiling!”, my alterations lady reminds me.
“A hook?”, I am confused. “In my ceiling?”.
“Yes!”, she looks at me pityingly. “A hook for the dress! So you can hang it on the day of the wedding, and your photographer can take pictures of it”.
“Ohhhhhhh”, I think to myself. “THAT hook!”. Insert a big eye roll here somewhere.
Once you get the dress, everyone is supposed to love it and make ooooh and ahhhhh noises when shown a picture.
You are not supposed to speak ill of the dead, and of the bride’s wedding dress. No matter how much you hate it. I showed pictures to a bunch of folks (because I am non-secretive that way), and got very predictable oooohs and aaaaaahs. Engagement rings get the same reactions.
It’s kinda funny, actually. Like showing someone a picture of puppy. Or a baby. Try not making oooohs and aaaaaahs, when a parent shows you a picture of their child, and you will be banned from society forever.
Next up, invitations. And, catering. And, the other 13,459 items on my to do list.