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ladyspriteI love my fiance with a deep and abiding passion. I love my friends and family, and I love the fact that I'm getting married. I love my pretty wedding gown, and the ceremony writing is actually starting to fall into place, and the chance to celebrate with several dozen of my nearest and dearest is just marvelous.
That said, this entire wedding rigmarole is starting to annoy the bejeezus out of me. Here is an entire industry bent upon making you realize that you're broke, worthless, and all of your friends will hate you forever if you can't afford an open bar and a rehearsal dinner at La Expensiva.
I honestly wish I had a small fortune to fund this one day of my life. I wish I could afford to feed everyone I've ever met bottomless booze and lobster risotto and an entire raw cow apiece, with live music and free pony rides. Or, barring that, I wish I was cool enough and talented enough to just find an empty hall somewhere and sew my own dress and grow my own flowers and bake my own cake and weave tiny handmade baskets and fill them with tiny homemade chocolates for all my guests. But I'm not that rich, and I'm not that talented, and so I'm stuck with a wedding that is going to scream 'frugal' to everyone I know who was lucky enough to have family with money. And it just makes it worse every time my mother cries because she's going to have to live with her daughter having a wedding that's "good enough" instead of Storybook Perfect, because she keeps insisting that it's her fault for being a bad mother and refusing to believe me when I say that I'm happy with chicken for dinner and bagels for the rehearsal breakfast, which makes me feel like I'm a cheap bitch for being happy with that.
Stupid wedding. Stupid social pressure. Stupid inferiority complex. Stupid student loans and stupid low-paying job. Blah.
That said, this entire wedding rigmarole is starting to annoy the bejeezus out of me. Here is an entire industry bent upon making you realize that you're broke, worthless, and all of your friends will hate you forever if you can't afford an open bar and a rehearsal dinner at La Expensiva.
I honestly wish I had a small fortune to fund this one day of my life. I wish I could afford to feed everyone I've ever met bottomless booze and lobster risotto and an entire raw cow apiece, with live music and free pony rides. Or, barring that, I wish I was cool enough and talented enough to just find an empty hall somewhere and sew my own dress and grow my own flowers and bake my own cake and weave tiny handmade baskets and fill them with tiny homemade chocolates for all my guests. But I'm not that rich, and I'm not that talented, and so I'm stuck with a wedding that is going to scream 'frugal' to everyone I know who was lucky enough to have family with money. And it just makes it worse every time my mother cries because she's going to have to live with her daughter having a wedding that's "good enough" instead of Storybook Perfect, because she keeps insisting that it's her fault for being a bad mother and refusing to believe me when I say that I'm happy with chicken for dinner and bagels for the rehearsal breakfast, which makes me feel like I'm a cheap bitch for being happy with that.
Stupid wedding. Stupid social pressure. Stupid inferiority complex. Stupid student loans and stupid low-paying job. Blah.
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Date: 2004-04-05 09:19 am (UTC)Absolutely. You might find Dave Barry's column today reassuring, or maybe not.
Social pressure, compounded by two strong-willed mothers each with her own ideas about what a wedding should look like, contributed heavily to Dale's and my decision to get married at the County Courthouse and tell people afterwards. I do not recommend this choice to everyone, you understand, but it is an available choice.