I recently became engaged to my boyfriend of three years, and what a whirlwind has ensued. There are many well-wishers, but for every five “Congratulations!” there is one “Why are you rushing? How old are you?” person who is convinced that a twenty-something cannot be making a wise decision with regard to love.
I may be young and new at this fiancée gig, but here is some wisdom I have gained in the past three weeks. It may not be great, but it’s better than anything Jessica Simpson has to say.
My fiancé gave me a giant wedding workbook/planner. It provides a detailed budget plan spreadsheet and illustrates the difference between day and evening wedding attire. However, it doesn’t offer advice or answers regarding “Who is this person my dad put on the guest list and do I really have to invite them?”, “How can I convince mom that no grandbabies are in the near future?” and “Why am I being forced to carry the emotional baggage of every divorced member of my family?”, which are the questions I need answered. I am currently making it up as I go along and taking extended vacations in my mind’s happy place (is it a bad sign that my brain makes me pay a toll before I can go there?).
While learning how to juggle the intangible aspects of my engagement, I have quickly become wise to the more practical aspects of having a wedding as well. “Wedding” is spelled P-R-I-C-E-G-O-U-G-E. Example: tell a salon you need an updo for a “special occasion” and it is $30. Substitute “wedding” for “special occasion” and you are now paying $60.
The bridal magazines would have everyone think that the true stress of a wedding is deciding between calla lilies and roses for the bouquet. That is false (and I have decided on calla lilies). The real stress is contending with nay sayers. My friend Colleen, who is getting married soon, offers the best and bluntest advice: “Don’t let the bastards get you down.” Whether engaged or single and loving it, enjoy this time. Be happy with your choices and have faith in them. If anyone questions you, remember-they’re just bastards.
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