I know all little girls everywhere are supposed to have dreamt up this fantasy wedding from the time they were, I don't know, teething or something, or the time they first tasted cake or whatever. If movies are anything to go by (and movies always tell the truth!) five-year-old girls everywhere are enacting their fantasy weddings even as they con their six-year-old neighbor boy into acting like the groom (and the small boy always grows up to BE a groom, which means I've lost my chance oh no). Your wedding day is supposed to be "your" day where everything has to be "perfect" and in the effort to make it so you can become a monstrous bridezilla and make everyone dance to your tune. What's not to like and imagine and fantasize about?! No wonder little girls everywhere are bent on imagining up their wedding days instead of making mud pies and playing with dolls (trucks? sacrilege!).
Apparently I missed that memo.
If ever I thought of weddings as a kid it was in the context of barbies or on the rare occasion that I actually accompanied my parents to a wedding reception (there are only one or two in my memory...apparently nobody we knew got married between the time I was 2 and 12) all I registered was the fact that you got dressed up and ate food from buffet tables and in my little world that revolved around mommy and daddy and my sister, the bride and groom barely even made an appearance, but I inevitably spilled something on new clothes (sigh...I guess I should be thankful there were not more weddings, for how many more clothes I would have ruined!).
And so here I am, on the cusp of a quarter century, apparently of an age where I should have already picked out my wedding "theme" whatever that is and imagined up a fantasy "perfect" dress (besides, of course, the fantasy "perfect" groom) and decided upon what cake I'd have on "my" day. And I find myself without a clue.
I know what I don't want: a religious ceremony, a white dress, my parents giving me away.
And isn't that how it has always been? I knew I didn't want to do math or science, and so I found myself reading books and discussing politics. I knew I didn't want to work at a think tank and so I found myself applying to law school. I have always known what I didn't want. Knowing what I want, on the other hand, is the eternal and unanswerable question.
Well, I suppose I could start thinking about "my perfect day" now that I'm clued in about the fact that I'm supposed to have one and am supposed to have it all planned out before it even becomes a real possibility.
Or I could go save the world.
With the unfortunate yet complete and certain knowledge that if and when it happens, on this most perfect of all days I shall, without a doubt, inevitably and unremovably, spill something on my new clothes (have I mentioned I love Devil's food cake and curry of all sorts?).
In the meanwhile, I'd love to know...what would your wedding day look like? Or am I not alone in not having imagined it down to every last detail?