Sunday, January 15, 2017

I Wore A Golden Dress


Remember that one time I got married?

I wore a golden dress and never quite felt like myself. The day was perfection though. From the ceremony to the plated meal, everything went off without a hitch. It was grandiose and big and pumped with amazing moments. 

My hair wasn't as messy as I like it. And my gown was gorgeous but didn't hint at my bohemian style. If I get the chance to do it all over again I imagine it being with someone that cares about the details a bit more than I do. Nothing fluffed or filled with tradition. I want bell sleeves and lush flowers. I also want pizza.

Perfection may hide the cracks but you can still feel them.

Combing back through the memories of that day, I see things in an entirely new light. I loved him more than I loved myself. Maybe I wore a pair of blinders or maybe I wiggled into a light state of denial, just strong enough for me to remind myself how much I cared for him and the life he had dreamt up and promised me. And that reminder always grounded me. I was safe with him. He loved me. I wouldn't be able to find better. But when I piece some of those emotions together now, the ones that I suppressed or talked myself out of, it's scary. I missed so much.

***

I woke up that morning in the bed with Sam. Coffee was on its way up and  I heard whispers coming from the other room. My dad had gone for a drive to clear his head. He wanted to make sure his speech would do us justice. His littlest little girl was getting married.

We had mimosas waiting for us. The girls were cheery. The florist walked in and we oohed and ahhed over the blush tulips and bouts of baby's breath. They were crisp. They were just as I imagined they would be.

I remember getting in the shower and staying a bit longer than I normally would. I shaved everything. I think I shaved parts that didn't need to be shaved. That's when I started to really feel the nerves. I got an idea to call one of my best friends. He was probably at the hotel by now and maybe I could see him for just a moment. I could get his opinion on this pit in my stomach. But I didn't. I texted though and when he didn't respond quickly I let it go. I chalked it up to being nervous about all of the attention. I'm not an "all eyes on me" type of girl and I was psyching myself out.

When it was time to get in my dress I needed help. There were two holding the train, there was one strapping me into the corset and one holding my boobs. We have photos to prove the latter.

We had planned to do a "first look" and I knew seeing him would calm my nerves. As long as he was at the end of the aisle I would be fine, it didn't matter who was looking at me. Once time creeped closer to him knocking at the door, everyone left. My ladies were out taking photos, my parents were making their way down to the ceremony site. It was just me and my photographer waiting.

When he came in I held my breath. I was hoping for a reaction, something immediate. Instead he glanced at me with hesitation and then tried to laugh off the awkwardness by screaming, "DAYUUMMMM" for the entire floor to hear. But that was it. He walked over and just stood in front of me. There were no hugs. There were no kisses. Instead I showed him my shoes. And that's what our pictures tell the story of. We were looking down at our shoes. I was disappointed and all of my emotion was caught in my throat.

***

We traveled behind the walls of the hotel to get to the ceremony. I didn't want to run into any guests so we used the hidden hallways to get us to our final destination. Right outside the room though I panicked a bit. I was still blaming it all on the nerves and the fact that 150 people were about to be looking at me. They were going to be looking just at me with their eyes no where to be averted or distracted to. But running back through all of my internal thoughts, I think I was so disappointed by his lack of affection towards me that it topped off my heightened feelings enough to make me start crying. I needed a few moments to regroup.

Then I was there. The room was amber. It glowed. Mom and Dad were beside me. I spotted my childhood friend, Bird, and she already had tears in her eyes. That's when I spotted him. He was bending over a bit so he could see me. He had a goofy grin plastered on his face and he was giving me a thumbs up. I remember thinking, "There he is. He's adorable."

***

Later in the evening, once all off the commotion had died down. And after we had made our way around the room, after three people told me that I looked like a mermaid, after I had grabbed the microphone and thanked everyone for coming, after I could sit down and breathe a little bit with my now husband, I got to taste the creme brûlée. I don't like cake so this was a nod to my weirdo ways. 

After my first bite he leaned over to me and whispered, "I can't wait for the after party," to which he proceeded to wiggle his eyebrows in my direction. In classic "Grace" fashion I responded with, "Please don't creep me out." He giggled back at me but I had lost my appetite. Why didn't I find that endearing?

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