Once upon a time, Sav asked Stav, "Do you think we'll get married?" Stav paused. They had only been dating a short time. Stav said, "I can totally see it." The pair was in a faraway land called Manhattan visiting the maiden sisters of Stav. Sav had felt accepted in the family right away. She knew it in the soles of her feet that it was only a matter of time.
Several years later, the young couple wandered up the brick streets of Hillsboro Village as morning was just setting in when suddenly Stav dropped to his knees. With tears building on his lower lashes, he proposed.
The rest of the day, the two relaxed and chatted about their futures. They imagined a lifetime of experiences and shared lingering glances. When night came, they decided to tell their families of the decision they had made. It was a lovely day, and Sav drifted to sleep imagining white gowns and flower girls.
Then reality set in. Planning a wedding has been one of the most exciting, fun, frustrating experiences of my life. I am excited about the big party aspect of it. I'm excited about sharing such a precious moment with my family and friends from all over the country. But sometimes I feel like it's so futile. It's extravagance even though I'm on a tight (super tight, in wedding standards) budget. It seems indulgent and irresponsible to entertain such lavishness, to host such an exaggerated version of a simple union.
I found this quote today on SoulPancake.com which said this: "It’s not the wedding as a rite of passage, or the wedding as a religious ritual that I have a problem with. That aspect I love. I love the idea of sitting around a large table with my BFFs, laughing, everyone beaming in expectation of all our futures.
"What I despise is the... hassle. The dress. The flamboyancy. The expense. The talk of it. The expectation of it."
I have to agree. Equally, I have to admit my very feminine desire to dress up and be admired by the guests and my to-be husband. And to have a picture that I can place under a lamp in the living room until I am 85 and say, "Yes, we were so young and so beautiful," and my grandkids can realize that once, their grandparents were fit and fashionable. And I want to forever say, "Do you remember at the wedding when so-and-so did this-and-that and it was so funny/touching/surprising.." I want those things. And so I'll have them. And I'll get over days like this when the whole process just feels.. wasteful.