Wake me up when the wedding’s over.

I think it would be fair to conclude that every woman has thought about their marriage. Or more precisely, the wedding. Before any bra-burning female wants to raise their arms in protest and send me to burn on a stake, rein in your horses and think about it carefully again.

Admit it. You must have thought about it; how you have envisioned it to be and what don’t you want.

Growing up, I’ve never wanted to be a princess waiting for my Charming to come whisk me away on his white horse. I still don’t. So even though I strongly suspect that I’ll be left on the shelf forever, that certainly didn’t deter me from planning for my wedding. But it’s more of what I don’t ever want.

In the group of girls that I hang out with, there’s almost a balance of the marrieds and singles. One of them is getting hitched next month, and from the stories I hear, if she’s not Bridezilla, no one else qualifies too. From forcing her Groom-to-be to diet so he’ll look good and right down to the colour of the bridesmaids dresses, she’s been nothing short of what a nightmare entails. I’m freaked just listening to stuff. So I’ve come up with my own list of Not to Do/ Want.

I do not want a typical wedding.
Most Chinese weddings here take place like this: Groom and his merry band of brothers storm the Bride’s house usually at some ungodly hour of the morning and have to go through several stages of stupid games by the bridesmaids before receiving his bride, go through traditional rites, may or may not take some photos usually in a park or scenic location with the wedding entourage. Come night, they’ll hold a banquet dinner in a hotel for friends, families and most times friends of parents and never-knew-they-existed relatives. They’ll do a march-in, watch a video montage of the couple’s journey, bride and groom will go off for an outfit change and walk in a second time, they’ll pop some champagne cut the cake make their toasts and speeches then spend the rest of the night moving from table to table taking photos. Can anyone say B.O.R.I.N.G?

If I get my chance I’ll do away with most of that. I don’t need to put my man through silly games to get me. Neither do I need to spend tons of money holding a dinner for the world without getting to eat. And I don’t see the need to change my outfit. Honestly do you think my guests will remember what I was wearing two weeks after?

No tiaras. I repeat, NO tiaras.
Let’s face it. None of us are going to marry a prince so why pretend to be something you’re not? I roll my eyes when I go for weddings and I see the bride in one. I know it’s personal preference and it’s none of my business, but please, just don’t wear one. Unless maybe you won a pageant before or something. If you wore one at your wedding, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to judge you.

The Dress.
I know of women who try a billion dresses on   and spend enough money to feed a village of starving children for a month. Not that it’s wrong if they can afford it, but you’re not going to wear them a second time and worse most women here rent not buy the dress so I don’t really understand why they need to try a thousand dresses. I know. You’re thinking wait till it’s her turn. Because I’m such a vain pot I might have to eat my words but after watching so many seasons of Say Yes to The Dress, most dresses end up looking similar. I’ll want to have a unique dress which I can get mileage out of and which I actually own. Maybe something with a detachable skirt I don’t know. What I do know is that I must be comfortable and be able to move around and mingle with my guests. What’s the point of spending that much when the vision of me tripping and falling flat on my face keeps replaying endlessly in my mind the entire night?

So there. This will also be helpful should I morph into Bridezilla some day. First, let me find a man. Or rather, let’s wait for a man to find me and decide he wants to live out the rest of his life with me, quirks and all.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s