The other day my sister told me that she’s getting married in a month. It was July 25th when she told me. Her wedding day is August 25th. That’s fast. Or maybe that’s just me. She told me that she was planning on having a smallish wedding. She planned to wear jeans and a red shirt and her fiancé was planning on wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and his leather vest.
The leather vest is a bit of a sore subject with me. I don’t like leather clothing. I do like leather shoes and boots and that’s about it. Leather, to me, is expensive and impractical. But to Shanna and Mark, leather clothes help them ride on their bikes better. No, we’re not talking about bicycles. My sister and her boyfriend, I mean fiancé, like to ride motorcycles. This was new to me when I found out in June. Shanna was never a biker chick and although I think people have a right to ride motorcycles if they want, this doesn’t mean that I will have anything to talk to them about if they bring up the bike in conversation. (Ask my dad how my eyes glaze over whenever he talks about farming. I’m not good at feigning interest.)
So… my sister is having a biker wedding…
“Do you want us to be there?” I asked, not sure what the answer would be.
“Yeah, if you can make it,” she said. In my head, I started to realize that whether or not I would make it to her wedding did not matter to my sister.
“Um, Shelli and Steen probably can’t come that soon,” I said a bit later.
“Well, we can’t plan the wedding around anyone else,” she said. “This is about us.”
Noted. My sister’s wedding is her wedding. I have no right to push my way into the planning. And that’s how I realized it would be. I’m glad Shanna’s not one of those Bridezilla types, you know, the kind you fear and wonder how long her husband will stay with her. No, after much reflection I have realized that my sweet, nice sister will never be the Bridezilla type. That role is being reserved for me. Full stop.
I already picked out the colors of my wedding. Ok. If I’m totally honest, I’ve picked out my wedding colors at least fifty times and most of the time, the main color is purple. This week, the standard purple is joined by Indian Maize and Antique Green. I want to have me a Mardi Gras wedding. In Lowe’s parking lot, I told my parents my idea, including the fact that I planned to wear a tutu. My dad immediately said, “That’s a wedding I might skip.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” I responded. “And you’d have to wear the outfit I picked out.” In my head, he was wearing a green top hat and suit, sort of like the Lucky Charms guy. I have since decided that he could wear a New Orleans Indian outfit if we can figure out the beading and stuff in time.
This visual right here is when I realized that I am, in fact, Bridezilla.
Don’t run away so fast. I’m a very nice person. I just have a tendency to get amazing, sometimes crazy ideas in my head, and I follow through with them. It’s awesome really, but when it comes to my future wedding, it makes me think that it might take a lot of time and energy to plan. The J/K Wedding dance on YouTube is too tame and normal now. I need something outrageous. My simple, Little Women wedding can’t ever happen now. Shanna’s taken the low-key thing. Mine will have to be different. It’s not going to be a wedding anymore. It’s going to be a party and I will be the star.
Have you sensed a tiny bit of narcissism here? That’s part of the reason I’m still single and there is no wedding to plan so far. I’m still that girl that’s 100% excited about the ring and worried about the inconvenience of sharing my life, space, and world with the guy. Perhaps I need to rethink this. I’ll be turning 30 in less than a year. Perhaps once I get my job situation worked out, I can start planning the big 3-0 party. That way, I can be as crazy as I want about my party and the weird details of my party without stealing the show from anybody else.
Speaking of stealing the show… Did anyone notice how I jumped from my sister’s wedding plans into my future wedding that as far as any of us know, may never happen? Oh dear! Now I realize why my sister decided not to have bridesmaids. She didn’t want to have to tell me directly that I was too much of a narcissist to be in her wedding!
Note to self: Call therapist.