At 27, I have long passed the seemingly endless Twentyfirst Birthday Parade and have now safely arrived at the Wedding Gala of Adulthood (next stop: Baby Showers Ad Nauseaum).
Now let’s just be clear about one thing – I have no problem with weddings. I love weddings. Without weddings, I’m not sure Pinterest would exist and if there’s anything I love more than weddings it’s PINTEREST. The wedding industry even affects unengaged, and sometimes completely single women:
This weekend was another one of those special times with my oldest friend (I’ve known her since I was two!) with a beautiful ceremony and really, truly amazing decor. It was so great I’m pretty sure the sheer volume of organising, planning, stress, and cost went over most the guest’s heads. It makes me wonder, is it worth having the Most Perfect Wedding if no one really gets what went into it?
It looked like I’d walked into a beautiful Pinterest board that I never wanted to leave – from the cheese tower (mmm cheeese), to the drift wood center pieces with hanging candles and green themed desserts with Steri Stumpies and paper straws to finish off the mint and gold theme.
I WANTED TO GET MARRIED TO HER WEDDING.
Unlike some Bridezillas I’ve met before – one even had a social media embargo on posting photographs from her wedding because THE DECOR WON’T LOOK AS AMAZING AS IT REALLY IS FROM THEIR CRAPPY PHONE PICS – my friend let us Instagram away as we tucked in and enjoyed her walking down the aisle to anything but the wedding march.
There are some sucky things about weddings that everyone seems to forget.
- If you’re with a boyfriend, everyone looks at you expectantly with wedding bells in their eyes.
- If you don’t have a boyfriend, you wonder what’s wrong with you and just how many drinks you need to hit on the groomsman.
- SPANX. I can’t stress this enough. They might rearrange your organs to make you look more like an attractive hooman than a potato with an alice band, but there comes a point when your organs and your spanx (or Magic Woolies Undies, as they’re called in SA) start fighting it out and you spend half the evening patting your stomach anxiously to make sure no bulges are bulging. You know who else stomach pats? Pregnant woman. Yeah. Not a great comparison at any life stage, unless you are full of a baby and not just lots of Steri Stumpie. To quote Liz Lemon, ‘God, three weddings in one day, I’m going to be in Spanx for 12 hours. My elastic line is gonna get infected again.’
- Small talk with people you vaguely remember from a million years ago, and endless friend requests from people you never want to see again. Also, the LOUD MUSIC. I am definitely an old person now.
- Much of speeches. Some speeches are fine, some are moving, and others are so long you want to drop-kick the chatty, somewhat drunk uncle and move straight to the first dance.
- Wearing heels for hours on end. Unlike one of my former colleagues who took wearing heels as seriously as a General takes war, I have a limited heel capacity and there comes a point when your spanx are attacking your intestines, the wine your liver, the music your ears and the shoes your feet and you realise that everything is just the worst.
- Cash bars and free wine (and the morning after)
- A suspicion that you’re going to end up marrying a pillow
- All the stuff about women OBEYING their husbands