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bridezilla in training

Bride Elect (Evolution of a Bridezilla)

 

Chapter Twenty-Seven—Attack of the “Show Me’s”

 

Being a bride-elect has allowed me to learn, in a near visceral way, the variances in which people express their enthusiasm. As I mentioned earlier, some really go bezerk and buy a bunch of tea towels, some are compelled to party plan, and yet others demand to be shown every little bloody thing you could possibly buy, design, create, or have created for the event.

 

These people are what I call “loopy” not because of how they behave per se, but because they want nothing more than to be “in the loop” on any and every given aspect of the event. I first discovered I knew, and in some cases, were related to, loopy people when it became known that I had found “the dress”.

 

At first, the women who normally comprise the bride’s entourage (maid of honour, the mothers, sisters, of the couple etc) were somewhat nonplussed by news that I found a dress. I figured if they were nonplussed then it was likely that the whole dress thing wasn’t necessarily a huge deal. When I offered to show my dress to my mom, Palucid’s mom, or even my maid of honour, they all—each in turn—shrugged complacently said in a near Zen-like way, “sure”. After seeing it, they, again each in turn, said “oh yeah…that’s nice”.

 

I showed my dress to the women who, by all accounts, would statistically be most interested. I figured my job, as a bride elect, was done. Imagine my surprise when the loopy started to surface. As many things are wont to do, it all started innocently enough, at work.

 

I have spent the majority of my career teaching high school English, and academic writing to adults seeking either high school upgrading, or a matriculation diploma. Many of the people I work with I have known for over a decade, and they, in many ways were much like a second family. For example, when I did return to work in the fall it was not long before someone noticed the stunning hardware on my left hand. Next thing you know it was spine popping hugs and the “tour” of Linda’s left hand to anyone who had yet to see the ring.

 

Of course there would be a few people there who would demand to be “in the loop” if for no other reason than they cared about me, and they were crazy about their favourite neighbourhood electrician. So, immediately following the grand debut of “the ring” there were those of the loopy persuasion who thought the next logical thing would be to see the dress.

 

I am not fully versed in all the etiquette, and moreover, there were likely rat’s butts out there I might have cared about more. So, I was acting on my primary instincts when I made absolutely no plans to bring my dress into my work place. The loopy were not the kind to be easily deterred. One even indirectly insisted—so I showed her a picture from the store’s website.

 

The loopy did not stop at the dress. Soon began a steady stream of requests to see my bouquet (which was still “in process”), my veil, my jewelled headband, my jewellery, the groom’s outfit (some just wanted assurances he would not be wearing shorts)—the list seemed endless.

 

In some cases, there were the more brazen loopy: the ones who seemed to be fishing around for an invitation to the event itself. In this case, they dispensed with asking to see the invitations; instead, I was met with a steady stream of questions about the details of our big day. The twenty (thousand) questions seemed to focus on who was invited, and just how many (if any) were not immediate family. That was followed by questions relating to logistics: how were we getting there? How long of a drive is it? Can you get there by plane? Who was my maid of honour again? What a surprise I chose a friend instead of my sister—especially considering our wedding was a “family only” event…right? What was the name of the place where we were staying? How about the banquet? Will there be dancing? Too bad you weren’t having something small in the city as well, so all of your friends could attend…

 

Some of the loopy conversations were both exhausting and exhaustive. Sometimes I would try to keep things interesting. So, when I heard the statement: “I was really surprised you didn’t choose your sister as your maid of honour” for the umpteenth time, I started saying “So was she!” and then I offered up my best mad scientist laugh. Other times, when I was asked the name of the venues, I would play fast and loose with phonics and experiment with the many different ways I could pronounce the names of our venues. If ever Palucid wondered whether or not I was Welsh, Gallic, or even Klingon in another life—he need only hear me “sound out” the names of the venues in my many varied ways to know for sure.

 

Eventually my strange and evasive ways become boring to the loopies, and they found other things for which they wanted to be “in the loop” for. With the exception of a few spontaneous—yet rogue—inquiries as to whether or not Palucid and I have started talking about children yet, the loopy soon found fodder more intriguing than me and my smart ass ways!

 

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