Pseudo Bride

Yesterday my mother and I went to bridal shows.  We realize that this may seem a bit premature as there isn't anything sparkling on my hand, but really at this point in time the ring is more of a technicality.  For example:  when my love was here over New Years his mother threw us a pseudo engagement party complete with champagne and crab.  My poor love is just trying to get the perfect ring (we've been shopping for a few months now) and as he told my dad during "the talk" he plans almost to a fault.  I will just leave my love to planning the proposal issues while I move on and work on the wedding.

Here's the deal:  I never was the little girl playing bride when I was little.  The closest I got was playing dorm room modeled after Denise Cosby in "A Different World."  Little did I know I was modeling my fantasy of independence and learning off of a predominantly African American university.  Kids don't pick up on these things. 

I was a bit shocked when I heard my mom suggest we go to the bridal extravaganza.  She married my dad on an ultimatium after dating 4 years and agreed to a quick ceremony so she didn't chicken out.  My parents for years have been bribing me with eloping with a sum of cash.  However, this is not going to happen.

The first thing I noticed at the bridal show was that I was OLD.  This is Utah.  These girls are switching their prom dress for a bridal gown within the same year.  They have you register and then wanted me to put on a name badge with the date of my wedding.  Ok, so we have narrowed it down to a month, but not a day.  I began to make things up.  September 30th, sure that's the ticket.  I didn't know if it fell on a Wednesday, Saturday, or what, but it sounded fine.  I refused to put on the name badge.

We got there in time for the fashion show.  Some DJ's volunteered to showcase their sound systems as to entice you to book them for THE big day.  The quality sounded like a fisher price record player.  I noted the name for the specific purpose of NOT pursuing him. 

Obviously I became uncomfortable during this as I immediately became caddy.  I began to notice the dresses that were Temple Worthy, to which I kept running commentary to my mom as, "another TW dress."  These dresses are "modest," a.k.a sleeves, no cleavage, etc.  I also began to notice the models who were shoved into some corset showing off their back fat as clevage once they turned to show the train.  There was one model who thought she was all that.  Heavy makeup, dark ratted hair (I think she was trying to look like a Vogue photo shoot) and a strut that made you wonder how many hours she spent trying to get it down.  She bounced down the runway, stared right into the camera and did her best "America's Next Model" pout.  My mom began to hope that she would trip down the catwalk and we couldn't help but giggle.

Another facet of the show was how the emcee kept saying, "Congratulations, Brides!"  As if to say, "You finally snared a man!  Good going!  Your life can now begin!"  No grooms were mentioned.  It really began to grate on my nerves.

Once the fashon show ended, we ventured on to the booths.  Florists, venues, invitations, caterers, photographers and the ever-so-popular-but-I-question-how-sanitary chocolate fountains.  Blech.  At one caterers booth I overheard a very naive bride who looked like she was 12 and her fiance still with high school acne ask, "So could you just do brownies?"  The caterer laughed trying to relieve the insult he just got and the unrecognized faux pas she just made.  The sad thing was, in Utah, to have catered brownies at a Ward wedding is hoity toity. 

A typical Utah wedding would consist of the Temple in the morning, a bridal lunch at the Joseph Smith Memorial Building, then the couple mysteriously disappears for a couple hours only to reappear at the Ward for the reception.  They will stand in a recieving line for hours and the refreshments will be jordan almonds, punch in a bathroom sized Dixie cup, and perhaps a cookie. 

My mom and I cleared the Salt Palace gig within an hour.  We decided to head to bridal show #2 at the Grand America Hotel.  Given the venue, I knew the audience and vendors would be different.  I also wisened up to the causal glances at my bare left hand and promptly switched my amethist ring to my 4th finger.  No Frenze Bridal/Prom Dress show, no Claires Accessories for your big day, no Inkleys photo, no Hampton Inn receptions, and no Davids Bridal.  It was first class.  We actually saw cakes, scene makers, wedding coordinators, professional photographers, and a couture dress maker.  My mom and I left with the rough idea that neither of us had enough in savings to cover a dress and a cake. 

We left with some really good ideas and my mom began to discuss guest lists.  All I need now is that ring...