Something Blue

Did you dream of your wedding as a child?

I did not.

I know girls growing up who, at the age of 8 or 9, had very SPECIFIC ideas of what their wedding would look like.

I was not that girl.

I mean, I think I imagined I would get married.  And I think I imagined I might wear a wedding dress but beyond that...

Maybe part of my issue is that I didn't go to a lot of weddings as a child.  I used to look through the wedding albums in my grandparents' den and I used to imagine what my family members were thinking when the pictures were taken.  My mother took me to the ceremony of our next-door neighbour once, and that was nice, but I didn't really get what was happening, although I did think the dress was pretty.

I don't even have a lot of experience with weddings as an adult.  Most of my friends are either a long way from getting married or married already; I think I've attended 5 weddings as an adult.  I've been a bridesmaid one time, and that was *kind of* a shotgun wedding, so I don't think most of the usual traditions were observed.

Long story short, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING.

Last weekend, I did maybe the worst thing I could possibly have done to myself.

I went to the local wedding trade show.  

I live in the Niagara Region.  Weddings are pretty much our number 2 industry here.  It was some overwhelming, claustrophobic, serious shit.

First, when you enter and pay, they ask if you're a "bride" and they give you a sticker that announces this to the world.  Putting the sticker on your coat is a MISTAKE because that alerts all of the rabid vendors to your status and FRESH MEAT.

The whole thing was this slippery meat market of greasy deejays and fast-talking photographers.  Occasionally, there would be a mild-mannered cakery owner offering samples which I do not need to eat because I know who is baking my cake or my friend who is a florist that I basically word-vomited on because I was too punch-drunk from what came before, and that was lovely, but I must say, the worst booths were the bridal shops.  

At these shops, a middle-aged woman with one of those "could I speak to the manager" haircuts would congratulate me just a little too saccharinely on my engagement, gushingly ask me if I had bought a dress yet, and then ask me the date of my wedding.  I would answer and would be met with a moment of silence, the previous moment's treacle still dripping from the woman's mouth.  Then she'd say, "2018?" to which I would answer in the affirmative.  At this point, she would wipe the syrup from her lips and go into full-on pearl-clutching mode, gasping at how I hadn't even tried anything on yet, and just-so-I-know it takes 5-7 MONTHS to get a dress, and then you have to have it altered, and then she would roll her eyes and raise her eyebrows and say I should come in for an appointment immediately and we'll try to find me SOMETHING.

And I'm not sure why this is a huge surprise to them because NOBODY FUCKING TELLS YOU THIS SHIT AND HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IF I'VE NEVER DONE IT BEFORE AND YOU'RE REALLY ONLY SUPPOSED TO GET MARRIED ONCE ANYWAY. RIGHT, BITCH?

Suffice it to say, the specific boutique I'm referring to in this situation (though most were similar experiences) bullied me into making an appointment which I full-on no-showed because they were assholes.  

Suffice it to ALSO say, I had a full-on ugly-crying meltdown when I got home that I was never going to find a dress and the whole wedding would be a disaster.

Good news: I found a dress the following Tuesday, and it was from a consignment shop so it's in my closet RIGHT NOW.  Take that, local boutique staffed by misanthropic harpies!

Lessons learned: The giant wedding guide binder that I bought shortly after I got engaged is not entirely accurate about timelines.  My new strategy is to do ALL THE THINGS WAY TOO EARLY!  NOTHING WILL GO WRONG!