human, being

Wedding fever: The dress fits

Steve and I are getting married sometime this summer. We had a date set, and a bunch of plans made, and all of a sudden it all felt like too much. Too much stress. Too much money. Too much trying to make all the people happy who we thought we should make happy. The fact that we weren’t able to save any money over the past year due to economic circumstances beyond our control didn’t help either. So we postponed the wedding.

But back in August–it seems so long ago–I found my dress: Maggie Sottero’s Libby style. I took Steve and Lauren to the store that had my size, but not the right color. I wanted to make sure he liked it as much as I did, and he did. I decided to order it online from Jay’s Bridal, a store in Florida that also has an online presence. Because I got free shipping and didn’t have to pay tax, and because the store was offering 10 percent off, I was able to purchase this gorgeous, gorgeous, gown for about $300 less than what it would have cost me in Denver. The store warned me that Maggie Sottero dresses were taking as long as 26 weeks to come in. I bought it with plenty of time to spare. It was scheduled to arrive on Dec. 4, and I was disappointed when it didn’t. Then it came in on January 6, just a month late, but a couple of weeks after we’d decided to postpone the wedding. It was a bittersweet moment. I brought the dress home and hung it in my closet, certain I’d wear it someday but not sure when exactly.

Two nights ago Steve and I started talking about getting married, and we both came to the same conclusion–it had all felt like too much. Maybe we were having that Mr. Big moment–did we really want all the pomp and circumstance? Maybe we wanted something simpler. We talked, and talked. (That’s something we do exquisitely well.) Steve posed a question: What if we went back to our original idea of just him, me, the kids, a photographer and the officiant? What if we found a beautiful spot somewhere in the Colorado Rockies, in a meadow, near a stream, and got married there in a ceremony filled with ritual and meaning … a ceremony all about us, and no one else? As he was talking, a sense of relief filled me. Neither of us had felt right since we decided to postpone the wedding. In fact, it almost felt like we’d half broken up. His idea wasn’t new; it took us back to where we started, before I turned into a mini-bridezilla.

Even if you’re someone like me, who likes to do things her own way, who loathes society telling her the “right and proper” way to do anything, you can become a bridezilla. I spent many sleepless nights on the Internet, trying to find just the right headpiece for my dress, googling online florist shops to find the best deal on flowers. I started telling, not asking, Steve about how we were going to do this, and that. In the beginning, I was very inclusive, but as he struggled to find a job and dipped lower, he didn’t want to talk about it. I surged ahead of him, and all of a sudden our little wedding had bloomed into a party for 100.

A few things have happened since we decided to postpone. First, he found a job. That solved a lot of problems, but especially it made him feel like a man again, a man who was worth marrying. Also, I embarked on the great Wellbutrin experiment of 2009, and so far, so wonderful. Yesterday, we went shopping for Steve’s wedding band. I think we found the one. Once we have it, all we need is to tell the shaman who is marrying us when and where.

Today, I finally felt OK about getting my dress out to look at it. It’s beautiful, gorgeous. I ordered it in a warm candlelight color. It is incredibly romantic, with its corset back and sweep train. I spent 10 minutes lacing up the corset, then pulled the dress over my head. It was a struggle, but I was able to pull the laces right enough to get the back to close. Much to my surprise, the dress fits. I ordered the size I figured I’d be in May, after 10 months of working out. It will look even better with 10 pounds off of my frame, but that’s a lot less than the 20 pounds I thought I’d have to drop in order to get into it. I put on my hot pink platforms (the dress is long, even on my 5-9 frame) and the beautiful blue and green bracelet I bought on impulse while Christmas shopping. And I got a little teary-eyed looking at myself in the mirror. My dress is beautiful, truly beautiful. And the only person I care who sees me in it is Steve.

Sometime this summer, we’ll elope. I’ll stand before him in my gorgeous dress and pledge to live my life with him and only him. And even though it may not be what makes others happy, it will make us happy. Eloping fits us.