The Wedding Troll

The air is a-flurry with tulle and sparkly pearlescent fabric, excited noise buzzes through the crowd with a fevered intensity, the swoosh of fabric is constantly rustling by, and not so gentle sobbing can be heard behind the thin gray walls of a partitioned dressing room. Welcome to a bridal store, a land of dreams dashed against sharp, pointy rocks.
Brides enter excitedly, just darned sure that they will come across the perfect a-line, princess cut, ball gown, strapless, sweetheart neckline, antique lace and mother of pearl inset gown that they've dreamed of since The Little Mermaid came out on VHS. Most tow in a bevy of non-marrying women that range from the cynical spinster sister to the hung over college best friend that keeps complaining that all this white is making her itch. They bring the ooohers and the aaaahhers and a not-so-subtle bitter friend to be honest and tell them they look like a Vienna sausage dressed up for the Opera. 5 hissy fits, 2 tampons, and 3 emergency bulimia sessions later, we've found a winner, Vanna! The bride finds the gown that only needs a minor three grand and ten feet of fabric in alterations provided that she doesn't gain the liquor and cake weight that makes that honeymoon bikini really a honeyMOON for all of Cancun. Now it's off to the register with a stop along the way to reserve a place in the Welfare line. Maybe this is all a scheme concocted by those crazy Rooseveltian Socialists and Walt Disney to make the U.S. a Welfare state after all, but I digress. With alterations and shipping, the total comes to a measly 4500.00. Chump change, really. Just to think, Mom has been clearing out room to max out her credit cards for years for her little girl's big day. Everyone lives happily ever after, the bride gains the weight and has to be pinned in her dress, the bridesmaids get toasted and show everyone their supportive undergarments, Dad cries in the corner whilst tossing his 401k withdrawl receipt into the impressive fire fountain at the head table, and the groom tries to hide the hickey with makeup the maid of honor gave him before she left his room this morning.
Is it possible that I'm just a tad cynical on the issue? All the weddings I've been to have either been lovely or unique, never both though, and I've truly not been given a reason to detest the things so. Somewhere deep inside me lives a wedding troll that eats all the sweet, lacy little bride goats that try to cross the bridge to the greener grass. Now that it's time to plan mine, I need to tame the troll. Or at least get the thing something to play with (mean kittens, rotten children, Nancy Pelosi, etc...) to entertain itself in the meantime.
My biggest hang-up is the idea that all this money gets dished out for one silly day. Literally millions of dollars are thrown into a wedding industry that manipulatively pulls in young women into a sticky white satin and Svaroski crystal interlaced web before it pulverizes their insides and sucks the life right on out. Why is it necessary to give favors to guests? Aren't they there to give you presents? Why is it necessary to assign seats? I'm an OCD teacher (the only people on the planet who should be allowed to assign seats) and even I have no desire for that. When did a wedding become a momentous celebration of micromanaging and overspending? When did the American woman become so convinced that she needed a contrived, ubiquitous, and expensive as hell ceremony to be called a bride? Whatever happened to the backyard wedding and tin cans tied on the getaway car? I could genuinely go into a manifesto here about entitlement, the Disney complex, and the huge dearth of personal responsibility in my generation of particularly women, but I won't. Mostly because I'd tick off some people that I may need on my side.
I don't want to be expected to have place cards, and save the dates, and a dress worth more than my car in order to have a "great" wedding. My theory on life is that Grace and Mercy are the two things we don't deserve, that we can't work towards, but we should freely ask of anyway. Everything else should be worked for. Family, a home, material possessions and overall happiness are the result of hard work, hard prayer, and moderation. If it comes time for a wedding and you don't have the cash, there is no law that says you deserve it anyway. No one should have to go out of their way to pay for the dream that you can't afford. Our parents raise us, they shouldn't be liable for a balloon payment at the end of the contract, nor should we be asking our husband-to-be's family to pitch in where the missing links are. In most cases with marrying young women, we deserve what we can afford. I work hard, but I haven't saved anything because of circumstances beyond my control, but none of that entitles me to a wedding for which someone else will have to pay. That's a tough pill to swallow, but it's the truth.
So what's a poor girl to do? I'm still working on that, but it won't involve a bridal store, a credit card, a 401k, or a bank loan. It will involve, however, being gracious enough to receive help, humble enough to remember my roots, and smart enough to remember that it's the marriage that counts, not the wedding.