Bauble and The Beast

They’re scary! They evolve from something so meek and mild into something so truly horrifying! They trample over everything in their path, leaving nothing but pain and irreparable damage. As a society, we’re under constant attack but they peak in the summer months, swarming in droves. They are BRIDEZILLAS. Take my advice and run for cover. A friend of mine was in a wedding party recently. She talked excitedly about the beautiful color scheme, the lovely dresses… she was genuinely looking forward to the day. Until – without warning – she was trampled by a BRIDEZILLA. Formerly known as her SISTER. It’s amazing how a wedding can transform a person. And NOT in a good way. I swear those beasts sneak up on you when you least expect it. In my friend’s case, she found herself running over hell and high water to keep the BRIDEZILLA at bay. You see, you don’t have to feed these creatures. HELL NO. The last thing they want is food. Then their no-one-shall-DARE-to-look-better-than-me-on-MY DAY dress might require alteration (for probably the fiftieth time, since it takes that long to be obsessively perfect). What they want is SERVICE. From everybody! People, who in Pre-Wedding life were friends and relatives, suddenly morph into chauffeurs, maids, wedding planners, caterers, florists, graphic designers, craft gurus and more. BRIDEZILLAS ooze demands from every single pore. Don’t even think of refusing them. If you do, you are OFF THE TEAM. You’re benched. Your invitation will arrive without the lovely foil-lined envelope and reception card. You’ll be granted the privilege of watching her become “Mrs. I’m Now Better Than All My Friends” from the very last pew. All this because you dared to defy Her Brideness. Think I sound harsh? You can’t honestly tell me that you’ve never butted heads – or fake nails – with a BRIDEZILLA. About five years ago, in the course of my work, I had the … opportunity? … to host online discussions about weddings. I thought it would be fun. YEAH RIGHT. Ever tried to politely stand right in the middle of a heavyweight boxing match and not get pummelled? Ladies and gentlemen… in this corner, we have Beach Wedding Barbie. No one will outdo her barefoot-in-the-sand-at-dusk ceremony, lit only by the 17 million white candles placed ever so carefully by her bridesmaids earlier in the day. Her simple, handkerchief-hem dress might look like she picked it up for a song at a discount store summer sale but she really paid $14,000 because “she deserves it.” Somewhere under that scrap of fabric is a designer label that makes it all worthwhile. Beach Wedding Ken, in comparison, gets absolutely no say in what he wears. It’ll be handed to him 5 minutes before the ceremony so the dolt can’t get it dirty. Mothers of the bride and groom will be wearing totally unflattering muted colors since they must completely blend in to the sand and surf. They’re in attendance but no one should really SEE them. They fill out the photos. As do the bridesmaids, crammed into dresses (a) they might have considered wearing to their junior prom; (b) they wouldn’t consider wearing now, even to paint the garage; (c) chosen expressly by Beach Wedding Barbie to ensure that no one looks as good as she does on HER DAY. In the opposing corner, we have Tent Wedding Tina. Determined to outbest all comers with her organza-and-white-light-festooned ceremony, carefully crafted by bridesmaids hanging from precarious perches at tent-top earlier in the day. Her elaborate white gown, inlaid with a minimum of 50,000 seed pearls, sequins and appliqués, features a 25-foot train designed to be sure that every person in the immediate vicinity, as well as passing planes and aerial photographers, know that this is HER DAY. Tent Wedding Tom will be picture perfect in his Tina-chosen tuxedo, looking more elegant and important than he has ever looked in the past or can ever HOPE to look in the future. Mothers of the bride and groom, bridesmaids and groomsmen, will all wear black. Not only does Tent Wedding Tina assume that this will convey an air of sophistication and class but it ensures that SHE will be the only person actually visible as night falls. She and her diamond ring must be front and center as this is HER DAY and she deserves all the attention. In the middle of that mess was ME. Think people can’t fight online? I have never seen such vicious typing in my life. Sugar-coated, of course, by excessive use of words like darling, sweetie, honey… and bitch. Those women could change faces faster than Joan Rivers and her plastic surgeon. Under the guise of sharing their excitement about their weddings, these BRIDEZILLAS came into that room every day, determined to look more impressive, more “avant-garde,” and, yes, even more “Martha” than every other person there. They would talk about the regulars who weren’t there… laughing at their budgets (because real BRIDEZILLAS have no budget), giggling at their gowns, poo-pooing their pâtés. They even shared tips on how to manipulate their birth control pills so they wouldn’t have their period on their wedding day. Mother of the bride or groom wasn’t enough – they had to control Mother Nature too. The most frightening thing was that the majority were planning for weddings a year to two down the road. In fact, one “bride-to-be” wasn’t even ENGAGED. I wanted to call her boyfriend and offer him a ticket out of town. But I persevered. I offered invitation wordings, favor ideas, color counselling and moral support. I “ooooooooh’d and aaaaaaaaawed” and fussed over every miniscule detail they shared. I hosted my heiny off! Now, here’s the irony of the whole thing – I was in the middle of a divorce at the time. Touting how exciting it was to get married, how wonderful married life could be (which was all true… just not in my present tense!), all the while getting voicemail messages from my lawyer and threats from my… well, let’s not go there. What I really wanted to tell these BRIDEZILLAS, after giving them a good smack into reality, is that you can’t control everything. You can’t alienate and abuse people and expect them to take it just because it’s YOUR DAY. You don’t deserve unlimited use of your parents’ bank accounts and credit cards. Whether you want to accept it or not, you are NOT the center of the universe nor the first person (OR the last!) to get married. And then, the biggest bombshell…. THINGS WILL GO WRONG. No matter what you do, something always happens on your wedding day. I know this to be true. I speak from experience. At my first wedding, the organist was drunk. Yes, drunk. The minister neglected to let me in on the fact that the fellow had a drinking problem and they had given him the organist’s job to help keep him on the straight and narrow. Well, on my wedding day, he apparently headed straight for a narrow-necked bottle of vodka. In the video, you could clearly see him, up there in the choir box, arms a-flailin’ as he “conducted” the soloist. That poor singer, a very talented friend of my dad’s, was clearly shocked at this unnecessary “direction” but managed to get through the song with a straight face. Then, another piece of music, normally quite appropriate for church, started out sounding like a circus tune. OOOOOOM PA PA… OOOOOOM PA PA… every member of the wedding party’s shoulders were literally bouncing with stifled laughter. I mean, come ON! It was FUNNY! Any one of my BRIDEZILLAS would have sued, I’m quite sure. If even one future bride reads this: Please, please, PLEASE listen to me… marry for love, not for the wedding you believe “you deserve.” Placing a ring on your finger does not unleash your genetic transformation into a BRIDEZILLA. You allow that happen… and I advise against it. People WILL despise you. Some won’t even bother to hide it. I was blessed to have been given a second chance. My second wedding was small and personal. I knew what I wanted and I knew how to plan it. The people that mattered were there. In my heart, it was perfect. In reality, my husband-to-be was ready to throw up in the car because they got stuck in the Friday night, can’t-get-home-from-work-early-enough traffic jam and he thought he wouldn’t make it to the church on time (he did). My younger daughter, so overcome with happiness, sobbed her way through the entire ceremony – the red-eye in the photos isn’t from the camera. Rather than leaving the church in traditional order, with the bride and groom leading the way to the reception, our out of town guests followed the wrong person and got lost. We embarked on a search and rescue mission, connected by a chain of cell phones and local drivers, and started dinner a little late. THINGS… GO… WRONG. And yet, a year and a half later, I’m still here to tell you the story. Life did NOT end. People continue to get married. More BRIDEZILLAS continue to hatch. Imagine that. I got what “I deserved”… someone I love, who loves me back. At the end of the process, that’s all that matters. So, ladies, try not piss him off so bad in the Pre-Wedding phase that he doesn’t even recognize you Post-Wedding. ‘Cuz Post-Wedding = REAL LIFE – and that lasts a helluva lot longer than YOUR DAY. Oh… but do go ahead and figure out how to manipulate those birth control pills, if you want to. Take it from me – you really CAN get your period on your wedding day. * sighhhhhh *