January 22, 2008 § 15 Comments
So I ventured out to the bridal salons this weekend. Most brides will tell you that this is the most fun during planning and that it’s the most important detail, but having been-there-done-that, I can safely say that anyone who thinks that is just fucking nuts.
The first salon I went to was awesome, though. The owner was so helpful, so welcoming, and there was no pressure at all. I tried on about six different dresses and narrowed it down to two. And then it happened – I was suddenly justifying the purchase of a very expensive dress. How expensive? Oh, the equivalent of the cost our ENTIRE HONEYMOON. Yeah, apparently “wedding brain” is the marriage equivalent of “preggo brain.” Thankfully while putting down a deposit there was something wrong with my debit card (long story for another post). I went home and waited for the holiday weekend to resolve the situation, and then it happened… I realized I was going to be a BIG GIANT ASSHOLE if I was going to spend $3K on a dress. Holy fuck.
So after gaining some sanity, I went to another bridal salon on Monday. What a mistake. This was one of those that had eight billion poofy taffeta dresses lining up multiple racks, with all their tags ripped out of them so you don’t know who designed them or how much they should be charging you. For those of you not married or not owning a vagina, these people are what makes the bridal industry a giant scam of suck. You don’t know who your dress is made by until you *purchase* it, and the prices aren’t given up front because they don’t want you to price-shop among other places. The kicker? I KNEW this going into it. Same thing, different circumstances, but what the hell was I expecting from this place? I could practically smell the crinoline when I pulled into the parking lot. I called the Mr. in a fit and huffed my way back home.
At this point I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt to the ceremony. Feh.