Last October Hampshire and I got married. This means that for ten months of 2011 I was planning a wedding.
For the record: I haven’t been planning 'my special day" since I was seven. I don't fetishise white dresses, white tuxes, white ponies and carriages. I am very uncomfortable with grown women using the word "Princess" to describe themselves. Or even worse, that appalling B-word: Bridezilla. In short, I didn't spend the year wearing a tiara, tulle and clawing my way to the top of the bridal cupcake tower.
In fact, for most of the year the wedding was the last thing I wanted to talk about. It was a boring list of 'to do' items before a party. But "Wedding" was the only topic of conversation people expected to have with me. Even if I didn't want a figurative veil, tiara and french-manicure, friends, family and colleagues were all determined to give me one.
A little bit of crazy came out in almost everyone I knew. A close friend cried at our engagement party after I refused to "discuss bridesmaids". My mum shared thus-far-concealed but very firm views on open-toed shoes. Conversations with friends inevitably ended up in advice along the lines of "you MUST have a veil/ cake/ bridal waltz". And weirdly, in a sort of bridal blindness, no-one ever mentioned Hampshire.
It seems that incredible amounts of conversational freedom are allowed when chatting with a bride. My appearance, finances, personal taste, family relationships and financial situation were suddenly fair game.
I was the constant recipient of questions such as: Who is paying for that? So how much weight are you hoping to lose? Have you considered colonic irrigation before the big day? I remain appalled.
So in 2012 all I want is to jump out of the pages of "Sydney Bride", reclaim small talk for things like the weather, and take off this damned tiara.
For the record: I haven’t been planning 'my special day" since I was seven. I don't fetishise white dresses, white tuxes, white ponies and carriages. I am very uncomfortable with grown women using the word "Princess" to describe themselves. Or even worse, that appalling B-word: Bridezilla. In short, I didn't spend the year wearing a tiara, tulle and clawing my way to the top of the bridal cupcake tower.
 |
| Pic: weddingbee.com |
In fact, for most of the year the wedding was the last thing I wanted to talk about. It was a boring list of 'to do' items before a party. But "Wedding" was the only topic of conversation people expected to have with me. Even if I didn't want a figurative veil, tiara and french-manicure, friends, family and colleagues were all determined to give me one.
A little bit of crazy came out in almost everyone I knew. A close friend cried at our engagement party after I refused to "discuss bridesmaids". My mum shared thus-far-concealed but very firm views on open-toed shoes. Conversations with friends inevitably ended up in advice along the lines of "you MUST have a veil/ cake/ bridal waltz". And weirdly, in a sort of bridal blindness, no-one ever mentioned Hampshire.
It seems that incredible amounts of conversational freedom are allowed when chatting with a bride. My appearance, finances, personal taste, family relationships and financial situation were suddenly fair game.
I was the constant recipient of questions such as: Who is paying for that? So how much weight are you hoping to lose? Have you considered colonic irrigation before the big day? I remain appalled.
So in 2012 all I want is to jump out of the pages of "Sydney Bride", reclaim small talk for things like the weather, and take off this damned tiara.
1 comments:
Ahhh, I can relate to this so much.
And also I will not be doing at colon work on the day. no sireebob.
Post a Comment