Muse. Ramble. Rant. Repeat



“It’s not like this day is just about you”

My mother never had a wedding.
My father proposed to her on Christmas Eve and they got married on New Year’s Eve. There was no engagement ring, wedding dress, wedding guests, etc. They went a party after and announced their marriage.

 My sister sort-of had a wedding.
She chose to go to the Dominican Republic with a modest 22 people. When she came home, they had a reception for her – thrown together in less than a month at a fancy downtown restaurant – it was simple, quick and elegant.

For these reasons you’d think my mother would be all for my rather non-traditional approach to things.

She’s not.

“It’s not like this day is just about you”

That is what she said to me when I first started planning my wedding. In the months that have followed she has tried to prove this point again and again. Case in point: Tonight we are going wedding dress shopping.

No, I have my wedding dress picked out already. I’m suppose to order it this weekend so it arrives at the perfect time in order to get the alterations done (apparently there is some secret science involving the Aztec calendar as far as ordering wedding dresses is concerned). My mother has seen me in this wedding dress and agreed that is was indeed beautiful. When I reminded her we needed to order this weekend she said:

“Not until I see you in other dresses. I want to see some options”

Options? I’ve been in options! I’ve been near tears surrounded in options. I have no interest in putting on another white frilly option that makes me look fat. At this point of the conversation I looked to my father with the best pleading eyes I had, he simply shrugged. So I argued with the woman – made the point that when a girl finds her wedding dress she knows it’s the one and shouldn’t shop around anymore. It was useless. I still have to go wedding dress shopping again.

Why, you ask? Well that is simple – my mother just wants to be part of the process of me picking out my wedding dress. She wants to feel as though it was her final decision to get my dress. Twisted? Completely.

I don’t know how to describe my mother fairly. I don’t even know if I want to try. I just know that I am the least like her of her children. I get frustrated at her opinions and she doesn’t understand mine. Things that are important to her don’t matter to me. With regards to this wedding – her family and friends will be there and she feels that it will be a direct reflection of her. It’s not but this is why she has been demanding to be an intricate part of every decision made and she gets very upset when she’s not.

Unfortunately, I’m not a big enough person to just give in and let her get away with it. So I booked tonight’s wedding dress appointment at the most expensive boutique. It’s going to cost her to find me a new dress.

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