Say Yes To The Dress

I have spent a good amount of time extolling the huge differences between men and women.  I have waxed poetic on the XY chromosome and it’s unique set of qualities.  I have proclaimed my womanhood loud and proud, especially having lived with a house full of men.  After all of that, I have to sheepishly admit, I think I have been faking it.

Oh sure, I get my hair done, have manicures and pedicures, am drawn to handbags and shoes and love my share of jewelry.  I thought THAT alone qualified me for the girly girl club.  However, since my newly appointed role as MOG (Mother of the groom), I’ve had to face the very frightening reality that I don’t know nothin bout being no girl.  

Here’s the thing. . .unlike most of my female friends, I hate to shop.  Loathe it, in fact.  I pride myself on the fact that I usually know what I am looking for, where I want to go to get said item, and generally have a coupon when I go.  In and out.  The power shopping days where we girls all head to the mall, downtown Chicago or Galena or Lake Geneva are loads of fun. . .for the first block.  Then, I’m done. But, I amble along amiably, quietly checking my watch and wondering when everyone else wants to cease with the shopping and go get a drink.  

Now, faced with the daunting task of finding the perfect dress for my son’s wedding, I allowed the whole summer to pass knowing I had fall and winter to do that kind of shopping.  Fall had to gall to arrive so, unable to put if off further, I finally made the intrepid trip into a bridal salon.  I very quietly asked to see what they had in their “Mother Of” section and headed over there to peruse the selection.  Apparently people who work in those kind of shops are trained to actually help their clientele.  Not one but TWO overly energetic and enthusiastic women swarmed me, bombarding me with questions for which I did not know the answer, “What color are you thinking?  Formal? Tea length? Satin? Jacket? What dress size are you looking for?  

Size?  Well it depends. . .at Walmart I am an L but at Target I generally go for XL.  Is that what she meant?  Blinded by sequins, I sat down, while the ladies, completely unaware of my mental state, continued to pull dresses from their racks and hold them out for my approval. Well my head simply started spinning and  I wasn’t able to escape until the phone rang and one of the women went to answer it while the other went to see what was in back.  I hightailed it out to the car in search of a paper bag in which to breathe.  

No amount of estrogen can undo all the years of a testosterone driven household and the damage it has done to my “girl”.  Thankfully, the Bride and the MOB have consented to help me through this process. . .they know how to power shop. I might need some wine and Xanax but, if they are patient with me, I may discover my girl after all of these years.  I think I kind of miss her. 

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weddings

It's a subject that makes for a teary eyed mess for both a mother and a father - most often for different reasons.  Her's being the event, his being the cost.  Weddings.  My good friend Vic is the Mother of the Bride (MOB) and while the brides father (FOB) is no longer her spouse, they have, over the years, figured out how to parent and co-exist in our small town.  Vic's husband, The Iron Man, has even been seen sharing a beer from time to time with the FOB and, no doubt, sharing a male generated joke about "their" wife.

The other night. The Iron Man was lamenting the loss of his masculinity in the fray of all the wedding talk - he couldn't even say the word "wedding" without rolling his eyes and swigging a beer.  November can't get here fast enough.  Well, it got me to thinking about weddings and the like and since my own wedding is the only one of 3 for which I have been a participant, I can only draw upon that momentous occasion for my commentary.  And when I compare that to the upcoming nuptials of Vic's daughter, it is apparent that some very clear wedding rules are no longer standing.  It kinda breaks my heart.

I won't deny that I had the wedding of the decade back in the 80's (with a bow to Karen, whose wedding was also a "todoo") and I still hold it up to most of the extravaganza's I have attended since.  I had an ivory satin couture dress, a cathedral length veil, a cadre of bridesmaids, a flower girl and ring bearer, a gourmet reception at Addison Oaks, a live band and fireworks and by rights, I was the focus of every single person ALL DAY LONG AND WELL INTO THE LATE NIGHT.  It was, I am told, the best wedding that most people ever attended.  While I did not even spend one minute at the open and flowing bar, opting for Tab on ice. . .I don't remember what isn't in a photo.  It was well before the video era so there is no footage I can cue up for recall.  I have nothing.  But a dress.  In a box.  In the basement.  That, and an album and my sister's Maid of Honor (MOH) dress - which is the crux of wedding rules being broken today.  Forget that my beautiful dress was a size 3 and that I couldn't fit my thigh through the waist anymore.  Forget that it has been hermetically sealed in a box with a window that shows a glimpse of the applique.  And forget what it cost.  If I were to do it all over again, I would still wear THAT dress.  A bride has that luxury.

What is so confounding these days is the plethora of acceptable pretty bridesmaids dresses.  In my day, the bridesmaid dress of choice was slinky, sexy without offending the churchy folk and usually made of quiana.  My color of choice was lavender.  The whole purpose of the bridesmaid dress back in my day was to include your friends in the big day without the added of worry of any of them looking prettier than the bride.  Oh, yeah, we all said these words: "You can wear it again.  You can cut it off.  It'll be great."

Do you really think that I didn't know there was no way on earth that any of them would be caught dead in the lavender quiana dress with the "Me Tarzan, You Jane" shoulder on one side and Grecian spaghetti straps on the other.  Did they really think I thought it would be easy to cut off and hem quiana with accordion pleats?  Puhleeze.  My MOH caught on to that in a big way and, in a fashion that only sisters can share pitched a fit - but that's another story ending with, 'it's in my basement along side the wedding dress box."

Vic will be a stunning MOB, her daughter will be the most beautiful bride ever (until the next), but after seeing her Bride's Maids and what they are wearing, all I gotta say is, "Honey, watch out!"  Huh, we knew what we were doing back in the day.