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 Okay, I admit it. I am kinda becoming a...oh, I can hardly write the word. Okay... BRIDEZILLA. I got my first clue of Bridezilla-ness when, after writing my last blog entry, 3 of my dear friends wrote and said that I was a Bridezilla! And then, I didn't update my blog for a whole 21 days, because I was busy doing wedding stuff! I don't know much about psychology, but I am starting to think that maybe, if you deny something fiercely enough, it means that it is true. For example, if anyone said, "Bridezilla!" to me, I would say, "NO, I AM NOT! DON'T SAY THAT!" I have realised that, just because I am not a Bridezilla in the traditional sense (ie. insisting on my dress being Vera Wang-ker, my ring being Tiffany's and my honeymoon anywhere overseas and tropical), that does not mean that I am not a Bridezilla AT ALL. Just as negative words can be reclaimed- e.g. "bitch", "sick", "phat"- perhaps, a Bridezilla is really an empowered woman who knows her own taste and style. Well, I don't actually believe that. But I have realised that, by insisting that things be done MY way, that automatically makes me a Bridezilla. Even if I was insisting on having a midnight wedding followed by dessert (which isn't happening anyway). Regardless of whether you demand a humble wedding or something Posh Spice style, if you demand anything at all, then you are a B.Zilla. So. Geoff and I tackled our gift registry the other day. I thought it would be fun. Like, for once, we could do something wedding-related that didn't involve the two of us spending money. It was all about people spending money on us. Woo! But, after 3 hours of wandering about a department store and reciting barcodes as if they were sentences, we began to get a little crazy. Like, how do you deck out your whole home- which, might I add, also does not yet exist- in a whole day? At the end of that day, we just began picking up random things and saying, "Yeah...we need a mini rubbish bin for the bathroom. Yeah, we need a bright orange fruit peeler." Below, is a record of our trip into insanity...    And, just to let you know how far I have fallen, I have taken a photo of EVERY SINGLE ITEM on our gift list, just in case we forget what's on it. You know, in case we have a spare moment amongst all of the other crap we are organising. I went to a lunch with Geoff's family after that day. I saw his cousin, Lauren. She told me that she was so excited about our wedding, that she was already looking for a dress. At that point, I began to panic. SHE was looking for a dress? How come I hadn't been looking for a dress? I'm the BRIDE! So last weekend, I found myself in a hideous bridal showroom, being strapped into the most ridiculous, restrictive gowns by this lady I had never met before. She was a pushy seller- much like my old co-worker, Inga. My poor mother tried to defend me- "The thing is, Carla is a bohemian, and she can't wear a big skirt like that!"- but I was being a sissy, and simply allowed the crazy saleslady to poke me with pins and make me stand on a stupid pedestal. Yes, literally, a pedestal, so that I could admire myself in all of my regal beauty. Mind you, most of the time I was laughing, because I looked so stupid. And I FELT stupid. I couldn't breathe, walk or sit down. Great statement for the feminist cause: "Hey, I'm marrying you, and in the future, I just wanna look pretty and not move around too much, 'kay?" My mum and I finally found a dress that day, and I told her I was going to buy it. She started freaking out, because I hadn't really thought about it heaps. I clutched the dress and babbled, "Mum, I can't DO this anymore! The shops! The dresses! The crazy sales ladies! I just wanna buy something and then get the hell out of here!" Then, last night, I did the whole process again with my little sister, who is my only bridesmaid. Although, it was more of a hassle for her, because I kept shoving dresses at her and saying, "I'm the bride, and you'll try it on, because you will do everything that I say!" Well, I wasn't really that mean. Anyway, Sonya was a total trooper, and we found her the most adorable, funky dress. Deep breaths...I can't believe I got so worked up writing all of that! If only I lived closer to Vegas. Post a comment in response: |
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