This weekend I went to buy wedding shoes. I drove myself over to a local place called “Dyed to Match”, based on a shoe I’d seen on their web site. I don’t like heels and my dress is the perfect length right now, so I wanted ballet flats. I tried them on in my size, and those were tight; going up a size, they fit fine. Five minutes and too many $$ later (put “wedding” in the name of anything and it costs twice as much, apparently) and I was done. Some people might think they’re a little plain, but they’re comfortable, and honestly, if my shoes are what anyone’s looking at that day, I’m not doing something right.
But something about buying the shoes got me thinking. It feels different now, somehow. I realized today it’s that I finally feel like a bride. Oh, not about marrying Dave — I knew I wanted to do that by the end of our first date. But the wedding part. The bride part. I don’t think I felt like it was really happening until now.
It’s weird because it’s not like this was a significant step (pun intended) or anything. We’ve been planning for a while now. We’ve done tons. I’ve been to bridal shows, read bridal magazines, spent too much time on The Knot. We’ve got a place, a judge, food, music, a photographer, a huge wedding party with tuxes and dresses (and shoes, come to think of it), flowers, a cake. We have a pianist, invitations, a finished guest list. I have a dress hanging in my closet, a tiara on the shelf, and a veil on order (why is it taking so long?). We have a spreadsheet that lists in meticulous detail every last thing we need to do for the wedding (it’s Dave, of course there’s a spreadsheet) and it’s not that long anymore. So why is it that buying this shoe (well, two shoes, really) is the thing that finally made me realize it’s not all just a fairy tale? We’re not just talking about what-ifs. We’re not making up a nice story. On that day in November we really are having that wedding, at that hotel, with all our friends and family, and the flowers and the dresses and the foods. I really will be walking down that aisle to that wonderful man, and having a first dance, and cutting the cake, and hearing toasts. Me. I’m getting married.
I never, ever thought I’d be the girl in the pretty white dress, and I never thought I could be this lucky, but I get it now — I really am. Who needs a glass slipper? Apparently my plain white shoes have magic powers too.