Have discovered recently that when I'm feeling strongly about ANYTHING (from a house purchase to a book I just read), it helps to write about it. Forcing myself to get linear about what I'm thinking always helps me sort out intense feelings and make sense of things.
Today's "feeling strongly about" topic: buying my wedding dress.
Mr Wonderful and I are planning to tie the knot this December. That means I need to find "The Dress." Actually -- with exactly 5 months (and counting) until The Big Day, there's a hell of a lot of other stuff we need to find, and do, and organize, and "vision-cast" about, too -- but -- for today's purposes: The Dress.
It's not that I've NEVER thought about what sort of dress I might like to wear, I think I just assumed that, like bees to grease or Heather to Shoes, The Dress would just.....present itself once I walked in the store, AND (naturally), my friends and family's opinions would all coalesce in this cocoon of "oohs" and "aahs" choruses of "that's the one!" and, very simply, that would be that.
SO -- after yesterday's marathon of Dress Trying On appointments, I'm facing what I'm calling "The Morning After" effect, where I start to over-think everything and doubt myself and realize that this dress purchase is more like a microcosm for my entire decision-making paradigm, and that, when it comes down to it:
I've almost never made a single decision in my life that was ALL ABOUT ME.
Let's break that down a little bit:
The buying of the wedding gown -- it's a very personal decision. Sure, we're considering our Groom, sure, we're considering our venue, we're considering what friends and family will think, but really, as they've taught us so well on "Say Yes to the Dress," it's really all about what THE BRIDE wants.
That means me.
What do I want?
Not: "What dress am I okay with that my mom also loves?"
Not: "What dress basically fits really well that Mr Wonderful would dig?"
Not: "Which dress does my sister like the best?"
Not: "Which one is my family MOST in agreement on?"
Just: "What dress do I want?"
Turns out, when left to myself, I have almost NO idea what I want. This ceases being all about the a dress and becomes a matter of HEFTY personal reflection that sends me into this dizzying spiral of conflicting emotional junk.
This dress purchase is difficult because I am a people-pleaser. Difficult because I am self-conscious and easily influenced by what other people think. Difficult because I want everyone to be in agreement about what I want, or what I should want. Difficult because it would be nice to have other shoppers in the bridal salons also see me in one of these possibilities and give me big smiles of affirmation that help me make up my mind. Difficult because I want things to be crystal clear, from the moment I lace the back up, no doubts, no second-guessing, no panic that I've made the wrong decision.
It's silly, but it turns out I really have a VERY hard time listening ONLY to myself and being quite selfish.
Turns out this is really not so much about a dress, but about focusing on ME.
When we wrapped up yesterday's appointments, I believed I had it narrowed down to two (VERY DIFFERENT) gowns. I thought I'd sleep on it, wake up this morning and just KNOW which one I was supposed to wear to walk down the aisle and marry the most brilliant, wise, dependable, handsome, future baby-daddy God's ever made.
Turns out.........not so much.
Let's get more specific:
Dress A is very classic. Very traditional. Rather chic, rather well-suited to my figure, rather what I'd imagine people sort of expect me to wear. When the bridal consultant asked me where I'd rate it on a scale of 1-10, I gave it a 9. When she asked why, I said, "there's nothing bad I could say about the dress. It fits well, it looks nice......"
Turns out, there also wasn't really much GOOD I had to say about the dress, either, other than that it fits well, and looks nice. Something about that sort of uninspired ambivalence doesn't seem like the attitude a girl with a major clothes collection should have when buying her wedding dress. So much of the last twenty years have been about clothes -- I love them. I collect clothing, really. I love pretty things. I buy a lot of pretty things. To wear a dress that feels predictable and safe and fits well somehow feels like we're missing the other half of the equation. Shouldn't this be FUN? Shouldn't the dress make me feel something other than "satisfied with it's proportions" and relieved that there was "something sort of interesting around the hem?"
Well then -- there's Dress B.
Dress B is rather opposite. While it also fits well, it's on the more unexpected end of the fashion spectrum. Very different from what I think people would expect me to wear. Different than what I'd been drawn to on bridal websites and magazines. Very Princess. I rated this dress a 9 out of 10. Why? It was FUN! It was silly, and whimsical! I was initially delighted with how whimsical it was, how big and fluffy and romantic if felt. How the giant tulle skirt made me feel like a little girl playing dress-up.
And then I began to doubt myself about this one. Dress-up? Little girl? Princess? Was this a wedding or a Halloween party for 12 year-olds? And did I really just try that on with a tiara? Fun, but then another bride and her mother walked past and made a cutting comment about how "that girl's going 'Full Princess'" and I suddenly felt like they were making fun of me. And like I did look like a girl who aspired to be a cake topper or a Disney on Ice understudy.
As a self-conscious person, I certainly don't want to wonder if people are snickering behind my back at the Costume Wedding Dress wondering if I was acting out some sort of latent Sleeping Beauty fantasy that would end with princes and fairies and singing horses and magic wands.
Big sigh.
So, I'm left with either feeling a little boring and predictable, or I'm left feeling like the butt of a joke. And, like a good little decision-making-averse kiddo, I'm wishing that mom and sister were more vocal about which one they liked better, wish they were giving me a definite "Yes, this one!" reaction, but, of course, it's not about them or what they want.
It's what I want.
And when I wake up this morning, rather than feeling more sure about which dress to buy, I'm feeling like throwing them both out.
I made an appointment to go back to the dress shop and try them both on again, ALL BY MYSELF, hoping that, when left with only my OWN opinion, I'll be able to listen to myself better. When I'm not searching my sister's face for approval, and when I'm not expecting mother and girlfriend to give me an emphatic "YES!" to guide my decision, maybe I'll be able to tune into what I want.
Honestly:
It will be neither of them.
And so: I'm going to find this dress without an entourage with me. I'll go try them on by myself, look in the big mirrors by myself, come out of the dressing room to no one's opinion but my own, and, for the first time I can really remember, make a decision that's all about what HEATHER wants. No doubts in my mind about shadows crossing other people's faces, no emotional memory about the ones they liked the best, no worries about how anyone else reacted or failed to react or what they expected or didn't expect.
I'll just go buy The Dress I Like the Most.
And I feel relieved when I think about it that way.
Because, for what it's worth, I don't want to worry that I've pleased or disappointed anyone but me. It's my wedding. Good time to start thinking for myself.
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