So far, I am befuddled that millions of women around the world willingly take a project of these proportions on their brave shoulders. If I am ever doing this again, I’m thinking open fire and marshmallows. BYOB. That’s it.
A significant portion of women in my life seem to be unable to have a conversation with me about anything but the wedding.
“So, are you changing your travel plans?”.
Umm… I got engaged, not diagnosed with a terminal illness. Why would I change my travel plans?
I have already been asked how much weight I am planning to lose for the wedding. Sigh.
None. But thanks for wondering. Can’t wait to continue fielding this one until next spring. If I start walking around with a donut in my mouth, would that address the question?
Oh, and why is it so hard to believe that I have NOT been planning my wedding since the tender age of 12?
Some vendors actually start the conversation by saying: “You know that wedding you’ve always envisioned?”. Nope. I don’t know. I can tell you more about this race in Egypt I’ve been eyeing for years though.
I bought a book. As in a wedding organization book. Pathetic, right? But, you guys, of course, I need a book! It’s not like I know what the hell I am doing.
The book and I are now having back-and-forth conversations. I can’t really say we are friends. It goes like this:
The book:“What bride isn’t excited to step into six yards of ivory silk and see a version of herself that she has long imagined?”.
Me: “What bride? THIS bride! This one! Stepping into six yards of ivory silk sounds like my personal idea of nightmare. Unless you are referring to high quality sheets or something?”.
The book:“Indeed, so much emotion is invested in choosing a wedding dress that the “right” one is often greeted with tears. The bride cries. Her mother cries. Sometimes even the sales associate cries”.
Me:“The bride is about to cry, that’s for sure. From this nonsense. Let’s get something straight. I am 32 years old. I do not believe in the magical “right” dress. It’s a DRESS! And, I can look fantastic in a potato sack. Besides, they all freaking look the same. Oh, and if the sales associate cries when I try on a dress, I am walking out. That’s just weird”.
I’ve gone dress shopping twice, and the experience has been… interesting. Here are my two cents:
My feedback to the poor sales women who have been attempting to help me pick a dress was probably not helpful.
“Umm… this one is too girly”.
“No, too poofy”.
I AM a nightmare customer.
Oh, and I find it entertaining that all of a sudden I am size 12. Whatever happened to Walmart vanity sizing where I am size 4? I personally do not give a shit, as I have pieces in my closet ranging from extra small to extra large, and they all fit (hello, wide rib cage), but do notice the psychology at play – the wedding industry does not want the bride to feel good or confident.
A confident bride is a poor customer. She can’t be badgered into buying a more expensive dress because it’s “the one”, or sold on a $500 veil, because, of course, she must have a veil, what about tradition?
Tomorrow is another dress shopping appointment. Thankfully tomorrow is also my first day off 100-mile diet. That means COFFEE. And it will help immensely.