I wasn’t one of those girls that dreamed of their wedding from a young age.
I didn’t fantasize over my wedding dress, or the venue or the shoes or the guest list. Quite frankly, I was more interested in moving up the corporate ladder.
I wanted to be the best (and still do) and that drive has always been my focus. I figured, I would have plenty of time to be a wife (I hoped) when the time came, so until then, it was my goal to travel the world, and learn from those who were talented in this craft and take their wisdom and put my own spin on it.
That was until I was asked.
To say that it was a total surprise would be a lie, we had talked about it for some time.
Everytime it came up, I would smile, but it never really sunk in I suppose.
I’m the lucky one who will marry my best friend, so the thought of spending a lifetime without him, wasn’t something I understood, or wanted to understand.
But, up on the top of the Rocky Mountains on Christmas Day, everything changed.
I cared.
I cared about the dress, the shoes, the guest list and the venue.
I really care, and I’m terrified. There is just so much to do, it’s borderline overwhelming.
And, I’m not sure I recognize myself anymore, it’s like a whole new person looking back in the reflection of the glossy wedding magazines.
It becomes more challenging, as my partner is just like the old me, he doesn’t care (well that’s not entirely true) about all the tiny details.
His only request was that the wedding colour be royal purple, which of course will never happen.
I believe because I didn’t have this all planned in my head, it’s makes it very difficult to process.
Friends have started offering advice - where to spend the money, where to save, what’s important, what they would do differently - and that advice is invaluable to me.
The logical side of me keeps saying, “it’s just one day,” don’t get crazy about the whole thing. The house, the goals, the lifetime working together is what’s important.
Until you look at dresses and that wisdom kind of slides to the wayside, and it becomes about how pretty I can look, which I know is ridiculous.
I suppose the first couple of months are about dreaming of the “perfect wedding,” and then the next year about planning the right wedding for the people involved.
I’m enjoying the dreaming part at the moment, and the terrified looks from my partner as he imagines the price tag.
Seriously, you should have seen his face when I mentioned engagement photos, it was so comical I had to take a picture.
I don’t know why I want them, all I know is that I do.
What I used to think was a giant burden was the geographical distances between our families, one side Vancouver Island, the other Cape Breton. About as far apart as possible. So instead of cramming one side of the family on a plane for six hours, we get to do two weddings. Which, obviously will “have” to include another wedding dress, another set of shoes, a whole new venue and a much larger guest list, and lobster, lots of lobster.
Two weddings, as if I wasn’t overwhelmed enough.
