***Guest Post: Story by Heavy Cross***
Bitchless Beauty reporting for duty - though this time, as a super irate and fed up bride-to-be. And I think I know one way that brides can cut down on their stress, frustration, anger and the ensuing red mist that can only mean we're approaching Bitchzilla territory.
It's by saying 'fuck off' to those who REALLY need to hear it. NOT your wedding planner, NOT your make up artist, and NOT your caterer (i.e. the people you're paying, so thefore you feel some sort of entitlement). Your vendors know what they are doing, and you're paying them based on your own educated decision.
Say it to whomever has truly earned it. The people you're NOT paying. The people who DON'T know what they're doing. Yes - the people on your guest list, family members or old friends that you by now 'have' to get along with, so they know damned well they can throw tact to the wind and give you all sorts of advice about how they did it, how they would do it, and how you should do it.
I've been working in this industry for years, and I can safely say that I'm a pretty laidback bride - as in, close to horizontal. All I really care about is that the people I love are in the same place for the day, and that at the end of it I am married to my favourite person. If that happens, I've kicked a goal. I have swallowed and digested all manner of advice, recommendations, insinuations and ideas.
I get that everyone involved feels they have some sort of stake in or ownership of the wedding, and I know that it ultimately comes from a place of love and excitement. But, HOLYSHITGODDAMN. If ONE MORE person gives me advice, let alone weight loss advice, I'm going to spew molten chocolate in their general direction until they resemble a luscious brown Han Solo, frozen horrifically in time by my wrath until I am safely away on honeymoon.
There are those of you (and you know who you are), who may not think I'm pretty or skinny enough to be your version of a bride. Hell, you may not think I'm pretty or skinny enough to be your version of a human being. But the fact that I'm going to wear the most expensive dress I've ever worn in my life (the one I attend SEVERAL fittings for so that even if I do resemble a beached whale in bronzer on the day, that dress is gonna fit like a goddamned glove) does not give you magical immunity to recommend a spin class when I have not - specifically - said to you: "I'm looking to lose some weight. What do you recommend?"
You know who DOES think I'm 'pretty' enough? That dude who proposed to me. Yeah. The whole reason I'm getting married. Yeah, that guy loves me exactly the way I am. And he is gonna see WAY more of my fat ass in pyjamas, in old underwear, in ugly-as-balls maternity wear and one fine day, squeezing out his spawn. Soooooo..... your opinion of my measurements don't actually mean shit.
"Fuck off." Were you really planning on me paying for you to come to our milestone so you can judge my back fat and tsk into your champagne? Not happening. I am so happy and rather than absorb your passive negativity, I refuse to be drawn into a world of celery and misery. Clearly it's working great for you - this attitude of yours is SO pretty. But, now that you mention it... I could definitely stand to trim the fat for this wedding in one avenue. The guest list. So, thanks! Feel free to keep an eye on Facebook on the day so you can live vicariously through mutual friends who aren't total dicknoses!"
There! That feels better!
The moral is: Fellow bridey - are you freaking out because David Austen Roses aren't in season? Because the fondant icing isn't an exact match to your Pantone colour chart? Or girl, are you just hungry? Go get some carbs down you and THEN make the call to your vendor. It'll go much better on a full stomach.
Love and cake,
Image via Secret Wedding Songs