Gouda's Cheesewheel: June 2009

Pretty door

From Lakewood turf.

My Bunny in his jammies :)

Planter

Shaped like Marilyn Manson's head!

Creepy

Voodoo doll welcome sign?

Denver turf

Creepy cardinal in rainbow hot air balloon

Liberation

All this wedding mayhem has got me obsessed again.

A couple months ago Jenn (finally) decided I was her maid of honor. That day we ordered my dress and her bridal gown. Not much has changed since then, except that our dresses have arrived. In the time between the two, however, I have become absolutely fixated on formalwear. I've always been fascinated by fancy things, especially since I learned to sew, but this is outright fixation. Suddenly knowing my meaurements and having an unsolicited introduction to the world of eveningwear, I couldn't help but delve ever deeper into the rabbit hole. But it didn't end at what was attractive and fun; I was driven to find something to wear for my own wedding. Yes, my wedding, which for all I know and care won't even happen. Weddings are ridiculous, I realize this. They are frivolous, awkward, and too often very expensive. But in the process of preparing for Kristin's and Jenn's impending events, weddings suddenly became the be-all-end-all of my free time. Perhaps, wanting to be helpful and having no specific means to do so (Kristin's deed is done, Jenn hasn't asked much for my opinion) I felt I could at least be well-versed. Perhaps the impending matrimony inspired me to re-think my own ideas on the matter (this is probably most likely). In any case, it all culminated in a fog of frustration this morning. Why am I obsessing and worrying myself sick and considering spending hundreds of dollars on a garment I don't need? Looking back on the pictures and links to gowns I had compiled over the past month or so, I can't even imagine myself wearing most of them without feeling quite awkward...or little girlish...or...contrived? Maybe that's it...a wedding, for me, would feel contrived. As much as it's "your day," it's really a day you have for everyone else. To show off? To prove something? To seek approval? To fulfill expectations or obligations? In any case, the more I've tried to envision my own wedding, the more stressed out I've become, and I'm not even really planning one.

Perhaps it's a blessing that I was NOT a little girl who envisioned my big day, years ahead. It's much easier to give up the whole silly notion without feeling I've missed out.

Thinking back on Jenn, wearing at last the real dress, custom-made in true color, that she will wear on her wedding day, I realized I don't want that. And I don't care what color or cut or designer. They want you to think every girl belongs in a white dress, that there is a white dress for every girl if she looks hard enough, and when she finds it everything will be perfect, and her wedding--the rest of her life--will come together. Do I like dressing up? Hell yes. Do I feel the need to dress up to prove my love and commitment and adulthood and womanly potential to my closest friends and family (and maybe a few people I don't know so well)? I sincerely hope not. If I look fabulous in a white dress, great. Let me wear it for whatever occassion I deem appropriate. And if I look fab in eggplant purple (which, incidentally, I do) then let me wear that instead, for whatever occassion, because I feel like it.

In that spirit, I decided it only appropriate to deliver myself from the temptation of my stock-piled virtual closet, and deleted every last gown, save a couple of non-bridal sewing patterns. That space is now reserved for Jenn bride things, as I'm to be her right-hand woman over the next 3 months. If I'm obsessing about headpieces and gloves and centerpieces, let it be for her benefit, and let her take the burden of matrimony for it. At least this way I can try on the putting-on-a-wedding thing for size, if only partially (Jenn did wait a bit long to instill in me my duties, and even then she didn't expect me to do much).

And anyway, I now have a very elegant, floor length bridesmaid gown, sexy silver shoes and all. No one's going to look at me funny if I wear it to the symphony or out to dinner. I have the right to look fabulous more than once in my life.

In my massive deletion, I did salvage one gown which I find to be genuinely fabulous. I post it here as a little reminder that even something as cookie-cutter conformist as the wedding industry can produce items of value to us "single" folks too.