MW Tux

So, last Saturday we got the attire for all of the men in the bridal party set up. Yes, all two of them, including the groom. And I have to say that it was THE best experience of this whole process I’ve ever had.

Let me preclude the story by saying that this whole planning thing has not been easy for me. People in the Wedding Industry expect a certain standard when dealing with brides. They expect to have to deal with the “Princess Bride”. You know, the girl that has been dreaming of this day all her life. The girl who wants the fluffiest, most expensive gown in the store. The girl who has every detail illustrated in a darling notebook that her maid-of-honor made for her, and carries around to every venue. The girl… with the princess-cut engagement ring. You know… THAT girl. The one that’s most likely to become a bridezilla. I don’t mean to bag on this girl, really. Every girl to herself. But how is a girl like me supposed to compete with that? Simple, I can’t… I mean, I really can’t. And even still, it certainly doesn’t make it any easier. Let’s take Angelo’s Bridal Wear for example, my very first experience in dress shopping. They sat me down and had me look through their catalog of dresses, and the very first question they asked me was, “Are you looking for a Princess Gown?” I didn’t even know such a thing existed. There is a category for this? My response, “Absolutely not, I am not a princess and I’m not going to pretend I am one.” I’d thought I’d made my point clear then. Next question, “What will you have in your hair?” What? Women have this stuff picked out before buying the dress? And that was when the feeling of inadequacy as a “Bride” kicked in. My answer was, “Definitely, no veil, no tiara.” Her response, “You have to have a veil”. My response, ” *crickets, crickets* “, as I stared at her dumbstruck. So after our fun little interrogation, I stepped into a dressing room for the trying on of the dresses. After she helped me with the zipper, the FIRST zipper of the many dresses, I walk out to glance at myself in the mirror and what does this wench slap on my head? A damn tiara. Oh, yea. And all while she’s saying to me, “I know you said you didn’t want this, BUT it’ll give you some options.” Options!? Options!? Is it an option to kick you in the face was what I wanted to say, but I instead I glared at her as I slid the damn thing off of my head. I’m not a princess. This was the first of many.

I have never felt so bad about myself in my adult life as I did when going dress shopping. The veil, the tiara, the shoes, the bra, the boob size… Oh, yes the boob size! When I was getting fitted for my alterations, the she-male seamstress looked at my boobs and asked me if I could push them up. I told her I didn’t have much to work with. So she goes on to mention silicone cups I could stuff my bra with and continues on with how she’s probably got some around if I wanted to slip them in. Yea. Talk about feeling inadequate. She would’ve dug into my bra with her bare hands to push up my boobs had I not told her to stop. Did she not believe me when I told her there wasn’t much there? Everything is SUCH a big deal to these women. Sure it’s all nice, but the dress, the bra color, the shoe color, the wedding, it is not the most important thing. People forget that.

So, at the tuxedo shop, long story longer. I was sorta expecting the same sort of treatment, but I had Rus with me as back-up if I needed it. And the girl there was SOOOO nice. She was super enthusiastic when we told her that we were looking for something that just looked nice. We didn’t have exactly what we wanted in mind but she helped with colors and textures. And when she asked about shoes, I pointed at the first ones I saw and without much thought said, “Those’ll do.”

Alas, I have become a favorite customer somewhere in the world of bridal shops from hell. My point is this, it does not have to be complicated to be good. And I have learned to do the rest of my bridal shopping in men’s stores. They get it.

 The End.