For better or for worse

The other night I went downstairs like almost every day for the last 12 weeks or so.
I should add, for clarity purposes, that my building gym is downstairs.

I always dread the first few seconds when the elevator doors open on the basement level. I cautiously step out, all ears. I tip toe towards the door, the rubber of my shoes squeaking rather unpleasantly on the painted floor. A good day means that everything is calm and quiet. On a bad one - I can hear the blaring sound coming out of the TV set dangerously dangling from the ceiling.

Sharing the space is not what usually bothers me, as long as I can have free access to the treadmill. Let's get fit together! sure! as long as you leave me alone. Sounds misanthropic? It is. Working out is already painful enough, I don't want to have to make any compromise. I am a grumpy bitch there to kick her butt and burn as many calories as possible from her belly/thighs/ass fat so you don't want to mess with me. Fair warning. But what really makes things difficult - because despite what I have just said I usually put a huge smile on my face and utter a bright 'hello'!' to whomever has preceded me, good manners be damned - is the choice of the program. Early arrival is key to TV control.

And the other night, it was just.....wrong.
Something called 'Four Weddings' was on. Let me just tell you - it was BAD.

Not worse than any other wedding show, I guess. And in the last couple of years I had the unfortunate privilege to stumble upon quite a few of these jewels: 'Bridezillas' is now classics, but what about 'Bulging Brides', 'My Big Fat Fabulous Wedding' - only rivaled by 'My Big Redneck Wedding', mind you - 'Platinum Weddings', 'Say Yes to the Dress' or 'Rich Bride, Poor Bride'?!?!?
If you want to catch up on a very valuable wedding knowledge, you can watch them all these marvels on.....ready for this?!?!?!?!?!?
Brides Television of course!!!

Oh yeah.

One of the (many) things that me, Frenchie, will always have a hard time to understand is the fascination - unhealthy, sick, toc-sick even - of American women with the concept of 'wedding'. Not marriage. WEDDING. As if the iconic 'after' of the fairy tales - remember the 'and they lived happily ever after'?!? - didn't count at all. Irrelevant. Might as well just evacuate the whole thing in a line, a Technicolor (fading) sunset and forget about it.
***Actually, speaking of happiness and Cinderalla and her friends... ever thought of the influence of religion on fairy tales?!? Yeah...I thought so. Well, I did for you. You are welcome. So while the English versions are all proper and respectable, and conclude in a most puritan way "They got married and lived happily after after", the French - these filthy Catholic beasts - underline quite a different outcome: "They got married and had lots of children". As the song goes, every sperm is (indeed) sacred. And the regal one certainly is.***

I always thought that I would never get married. I never dreamed of my dress, never planned (over and over) the day in my head, never picked up (and dropped) bridesmaids. Not. Interested. Even as a little girl I remember looking at the wedding gowns and thinking what a pain they must be to put on. I thought it would be cool to just wear a bathing suit and then go for a swim with my beloved after the ceremony (that was of course before realizing that white bathing suits were not necessarily the best option out there....)
Then my parents divorced, and I was more sure than ever that I would never, ever go through this ordeal.

My first serious relationship lasted 7 years. The word 'marriage' probably never crossed our lips. We made endless fun of the few weddings we had to attend as a couple, giggling at the church, crucifying every bit of cheesiness we could find and just being respectfully disrespectful. We swore every time afterward, inebriated by too much champagne and toasts, that we would never make such fools of ourselves. And that we would never spend so much money on a day that had so little meaning for us.
Especially since France had in the meantime legalized civil union for all couples. Gay, straight, romantically involved or not, people and their 'partners' can get (almost) the same privileges as married people. (Yes, I know - quite amazing) So why bother?!?!?!?
Most of my friends didn't.

I knew coming here that things were a little different, but I was not quite prepared for what I found. Diamond ring competitions? Designer gowns? Favors? Ushers? Rehearsal dinners? Have I heard that one right?
It was just another league all together.
A scary one.

On a bright Friday of August my American boyfriend proposed to me. It was all nice and lovely, romantic and all; he had chosen an intimate flower garden off Michigan Avenue, written an adorable story involving past, present and future and bought a ring. Damn. I was going to be one of those. But I loved it as soon as I laid my eyes on it. Simple, elegant, timeless, not in-your-face. No sunglasses, portable safe or bodyguard needed.
And no outrageous price tag. Thank God, I would have (verbally) killed him and asked him what the heck he was thinking. And forced him to take it back and send us on vacation with the money instead.

So I had to rethink all my wedding assessments, and do it fast. Because it was happening. TO ME! I was lost. Didn't know what to do. What I wanted to do. I decided pretty quickly that I wouldn't agonize over it for months and picked up a date 4 months later. Sent an SOS email to my friends. And we got to work.

And, to my surprise, I had fun. Lots of fun. Prepping was exciting! Choosing the venues, the menu, the invitations...deciding on the favors (home-made jam), the room decoration, the flowers of my bouquet. Creating my own bracelet. Being with my friends, and sharing it all with them. Keeping things simple, heart-felt and meaningful.
But yet elegant, classy and beaaaaaaauuuuu-tiful.

The only bad moment? Going gown shopping. I even have pictures to prove it. Thank you, Mireille for immortalizing that glorious moment. I wish I could say that I will get even with you on this but chances are rather slim. Because as a fellow Frenchie, I know you know better. You won't get caught. And if you do - well, I will be there to try to make things go as smooth as possible.

But seriously?!?! Don't ask me to be your maid of honor - I wouldn't wear the dress. Or to time the ushers - I would make a mess. Or even to sit through a rehearsal dinner - unless you want me to give you the most embarrassing toast in the history of toasts.
Because I may be married now, I still don't like weddings.
Especially American.
Apologies to all the Bridezillas out there...


Real life picture. Me, stuck in the fitting-room of the WORST store ever. Marylee Bridals. Sounds bad?!? Looks and smells even worse.
BTW - this is NOT the dress I chose.