wedding season again
It is that time of year again. Wedding season. Oh jeebus. I barely survived last year, and now I’ve realized I gotta go through this every year until my late-thirties when all the women give up on their dreams of non-existent perfect men and fairy tale romances and all the men stopped dropping to one knee and doling out over-priced carbon pieces. Or everyone’s taken like a seat in musical chairs – I’ll be the odd one standing.
I’ve been having that wedding-season-is-approaching feeling for a couple of weeks; its similar to the feeling you get in the back of your throat at the sinuses right before you get the worst head cold of your life. When you breathe, and you have Texas sized headaches, your eyes feel like they are exploding and decapitating yourself seems more effective than Dayquil. But this week it’s been sunny and crisp and gorgeous and I saw cheery blossoms covering a lovely tree, which means Spring and as I get older, Spring time no longer represents birds and flowers and gradually increasing days and warmth. Instead it’s weddings gowns and high maintenance brats, I mean brides, and flower arrangements and cake. Don’t get me wrong, I love cake. But Spring isn’t only about cake – although I wish it was.
One of my favorite websites, PopSugar.com, a site of gossip (PopSugar) and fashion (FabSugar) and makeup (BellaSugar) and health (FitSugar) and cooking (YumSugar) and EVERYTHING just added a new ‘sugar,’ IDoSugar. Great. I know I’ll look it, I blame you, estrogen! I’ll read all the wedding day makeup tips and planner suggestions and make-your-own favors how-to and top wedding dresses to disguise your fat ass articles. Then I’ll just exhaust my tolerance in an exponentially faster time than usual. Even the Today Show is in on wedding fever, some couple is going to get married on the air. I love the Today Show! My first reaction was “I’m gonna win that damn wedding if it kills me!” But, I don’t have anyone to marry, so I am shit outta luck.
Weddings just kind of irk me. They make me cringe and I’m getting to an age at which I’m waiting for people to fall prey. Friends to fall prey. Last year I had to smile politely while the crazy wilderbeasts that occupy my office floor planned weddings. I had to hear the horrible remarks about cheap engagement rings, cheap brides, and not-going-to-last nuptials. I wanted to tell them things like, I’ve never even considered a wedding, that I’d skip the ‘I do’s’ and go right to a reception if I was tying the knot, and that I’d want a simulated diamond ring instead of blood diamond ‘cause I don’t need a dead 12 year old African messing up my karma. I would have gotten the “You have a 10 inch dildo growing out of your forehead look” and then they’d demand to see my vagina to make sure I was a real girl. I was ashamed to share the same gender with these wedded-bliss crazed animals.
If a friend got engaged now, I might write them off. I’d do a distancing act that would look oddly like me not answering my phone and avoiding places that I might see them. Or maybe me childishly clapping my hands over my ears and singing (very loudly to make up for the very terrible voice) “This Land is My Land, This Land is Your Land” whenever wedding talk erupted. Except I don’t know that song all the way through, so some part would be a series of “LA LAH LA!”
I hate the attempts to out-do every previous bride and over extending budgets and the constant talking about bouquets this and cake that and bridemaids are idiots and OMG my dress is the most beautiful ever! I’ve heard the thought that a wedding is a girl’s chance to be princess, her most special day of her life. But I thought that was Prom, so I did it twice. Everything just sounds so vain and shallow and materialist, another female pissing contest. And maybe my disgusts with weddings centers around me. I have no real want for a wedding, because I’m short and would look like a dumpy bride and I’m cheap so spending a fortune sounds ridiculous and I’m pretty sure the Universe did not create a man that would marry me, because I’d drive him crazy. Therefore I request to bypass the remainder of my twenties through to my late thirties to avoid the annual wedding rituals. I’m ready for my spinster role.
