In 2017, I sat in the pews of three churches or the rows of fancy reception halls watching two people in love become one union. And for the weddings I didn’t attend, I saw enough of the ceremony on social media to make me feel like I was there, dodging the thrown bouquet per usual. I always wonder if their special day came close to (or exceeded) what they drummed up in their dreams prior to.
Culturally, we joke and say that from youth, us women, prayerful brides-to-be, spend years planning for their weddings, regardless of if the husband part of the equation has been factored in yet. We know the style and cut of engagement rings, possible surprise engagement scenarios, the type of dress and hair, locations and venues, months, seasons, guest lists, table decor, honeymoons, you name it. And it’s a fun and wonderful thing to imagine. I love to chime in to the building of this fantasy as, through age, we inch towards their realities.
All my life I’ve wanted to become a best friend turned wife, a mother, a life partner, someone else’s complete family. However, I’ve avoided letting even a fragment of a wedding ceremony for myself materialize in my mind. In casual conversation, I’ve crossed out the option of me wearing a strapless dress simply because my breasts are big and gravity is real, and that I couldn’t have a spring wedding because my allergies are horrendous, but my thoughts haven’t drifted much beyond that. I have no mental picture of myself in a white gown, no clue what my hair would be doing, no color schemes, no clue of the reception activities or if I’ll do customized vows or who would be doe-eyed in the audience dabbing away tears for me.
I don’t necessarily see myself as superstitious, but I do have a gut fear of karma and jinxing things. While I do believe in The Secret and that thoughts become things, I fear that if I conjure up something prematurely, I’ll put bad luck in the air and ruin whatever’s meant to be. But the older I get, the more world I see, and the more life I experience, I wonder if the snapshot of a married me is MIA not because I’m scared I’ll jinx it, but because it doesn’t actually exist. Maybe that aversion to envisioning my big day is a subconscious way of not getting my hopes up too high to be crushed. That maybe I don’t see myself as a bride because there’s a very real chance I’ll never be one.