I have expectations for our wedding.
I keep telling people we’re going to accidentally have a bohemian-inspired wedding, because all I envision are tons of flowers and flowy material floating on a breezy, not too warm, but not too chilly September day.
let’s be real, there’s no “accident” to my vision, and my expectations are high. but, at the end of the day, all that matters is that Ben and I will be exactly where we’re supposed to be—together. forever.
last (black) Friday, I went to a small bridal boutique in my hometown. I’m not even sure I can call it a boutique? it is a store in a strip mall. anyway, it is where my sister found her dress and my mom was insistent we go try on during their sale.
I’m embarrassed to admit it, but (again) I had certain expectations of how I would look at our wedding, and how could a store in my hometown possibly meet those expectations?
when I walked into the boutique, a lady that had helped my sister find her dress approached us. she led us into the room where they keep their gowns and explained how their Black Friday sale worked. my eyes immediately darted around the racks of dresses trying to find one that would make me feel better about shopping in a strip mall for my wedding dress.
the lady (I never even got her name) asked me what I thought I wanted, so I told her I loved lace and tulle. I wanted to have straps and I wanted it to be appropriate for our setting in the northern WI outdoors. she showed me some ideas, but left us to pull gowns out that I wanted to try on. what I realized almost immediately is that it is so hard for people not to project their own ideas onto what you want.
I kept an open mind and, with the help of some of my maids and mom, I pulled probably a dozen dresses to take back to try on. this is where it really became real.
sliding into that first dress was so exciting. I kept telling the lady that was helping me change how weird it felt. and when I looked back at pictures of me in the first couple of dresses, weird is written all over my face. it didn’t help that the first dress I put on was in some color called “rum.” the first dress was one that I had pulled. it was made out of chiffon and had the flow I thought I wanted. it was a beautiful dress, but I knew immediately it wasn’t for me.
I experienced the same sentiments for the next couple of dresses, but while I was changing into the third dress, I (unbeknownst to myself) pointed to “my” dress and told the lady I was most excited to try that one on.
it was while I was putting the fourth dress on that I had my moment. after I stepped into the gown I couldn’t take my eyes off of the mirror in front of me. I started to imagine the look on Ben’s face as I walked down the aisle to him. I cried. the lady (again, still don’t know her name), asked if I wanted to cry with her in the dressing room, or if I wanted to go cry out there with everyone else. I walked out and watched everyone turn around and smile. it’s like we all just knew.
it’s better than anything I ever imagined for myself. Ben is going to be speechless, mostly because it’s completely different than how he sees me all the time. not, like, bedhead hair with morning breath level different, but stunningly lovely, instead of practical and cute. for once in my life (and that’s probably enough), I’m going to look graceful and delicate and pretty, like an ethereal woodland goddess floating in to marry my one true love.
I’d say that, so far, everything has exceeded my expectations for the wedding. only 284 more days to go!