In the two months following my proposal, I have learned enough about the American wedding phenomenon to last me two lifetimes. With luck, this is the first, last, and only time I'll need to be a bride-to-be.
For those of you who haven't had the good fortune to become a bride in training, the psychology runs deep. Social training begins at a young age. The expectation of the proposal, the engagement, the ring, the dress etc, are all set before the story begins. Indeed, now that I'm a bride-to-be, I'm swimming in the expectations I've created and been coerced into over a lifetime.
Alongside many latent psuedo-protestant christian values (to be discussed later), my mind has been taken over by a deadly trilogy of societal norms. It is a lethal cocktail of one part Disney heroines, one part Martha Stewart, and one part 1950s Betty Crocker house wife fantasy.
Since becoming a bride-to-be, I have begun to dream of dresses that look like badly iced cupcakes, a million and one ways to gussy up ball jars, and the inescapable wedding registry gift: a brightly colored Kitchen-Aid mixer.
Since when did I want to wear something that was so ruffly I feel like I'm swimming in a pool of whipped cream? Or turn a thousand ball jars into a wedding alter? Or acquire a kitchen implement that is so heavy no one in gods name wants to pull it out of the closet?
Answer: Since the American wedding industry crept into my head and stole my brain. Out with my well formulated counter-cultural values- in with the dreams of an American girl so steeped in the wedding phenomenon she has forgotten who she really is.
Stay tuned for more adventures of The Feminist Bride and the search for a meaningful wedding.
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