CHAPTERS on Becoming Bridezilla
Are people born bridezilla or is bridezilla cast upon them?
There is one thing, since getting engaged, that keeps me awake at night and it’s not the thought of being jilted. Nor is it the panic that the dress won’t fit, that the transport will be late or that someone will stand up and say “I object!” before revealing a life-changing secret. No, what scares me more than all of that, what fills me with The Fear, is the thought of becoming a Bridezilla.
In my recent experience, the moment you say ‘yes’ to that four-word question, the societal tectonic plates shift, the wedding pressure rises through your feminist core like magma forming a volcano, guaranteed to explode out a bride-shaped hot mess. I’ve seen it happen to innocent, reasonable, strong-willed women before and vowed it would never happen to me. But, I now believe that the world is designed to ensnare unsuspecting women into the manicured claws of the bridezilla trap. And in my nightmares, it takes me too.
Before we got engaged my boyfriend and I weren’t even sure we’d bother with a wedding. We romanticised about eloping, we cringed at the idea of a first dance, I balked at the thought of a hen-do and we agreed that we would only want something low key. I’d wear a suit, do a speech and keep traditions to a minimum. I was unprepared for the reality which has unfolded since he “popped the question.” And I have new sympathy for all the brides preceding me who have lost their sanity in this process. Let me share what I have witnessed so far.
First, on revealing our news, came the predicable questions - was it a surprise, how did he do it, what did you say, when’s the wedding?! I didn’t predict instantly feeling my answers were underwhelming. “We were just at home.” I’d say coyly. Or worse I would reveal, “I was in my pyjamas” and shock horror, “yes I knew it was coming.” For me this was the perfect way to get engaged, privately, no surprises. But when I said it aloud it all sounded a bit mundane. Where was the grand gesture on a Venetian water taxi, or down-on-one-knee moment on an exotic beach at sunset? Why didn’t I want that? I start to think there’s something wrong with me. This is the fertile soil in which the bridezilla seeds are planted.
My boyfriend proposed with a beautiful, slim, diamond band shaped like a cresting wave. It means the world to me. When I showed this ring to people they said things like, “how unique” or “that’s so different”. I could sense their desperation to know, “Is that it?!” and instantly rushed to justify that I would be getting a more traditional engagement ring, allaying their fears that I might have to wear something “so unusual” for the rest of my life. Relieved sighs, I would not.
As if this wasn’t strange enough, did you know that engaged women notice other engaged women on the tube and give a knowing smile? It’s like you’ve entered into a secret society, the female Freemasons with shinier ring designs. People at work ask questions about your relationship like it’s an achievement you’ll be adding to your CV. Before you know it you find your heart-rate increasing with the infectious excitement of others vicariously living through you. And I must admit it’s quite joyful. The bridezilla seeds are watered.
What I was truly unprepared for as a “bride-to-be” are the endless unsolicited opinions people have about your wedding and your appearance. Here’s a selection of genuine things people have said to me;
“I like it when brides wear a white dress but you don’t want it to be too white.”
“You only have one wedding, it needs to be perfect.”
“You have to host an after-party.”
“It’s your day, you want to feel really special.”
“You should grow your hair.”
“You have to change your dress for the evening.”
I notice that none of this is directed towards my partner and any sense of chill I had is an increasingly distant memory.
Next you start to delve into the industry built around these fairytale tropes - bridalwear shops, florists and photographers inform you of all the elements NEEDED for the perfect day. Money starts to leave your bank account, more money than you can bear to see in the outgoings column of your statement. Your diary starts to fill with wedding-related events, engagement drinks, dress shopping, more drinks, venue meetings, food tasting. Your friends look wounded when you say you’re not having a hen-do, a maid-of-honour, or bridesmaids. The guilt! And I haven’t even got to the rumoured hell of a seating plan yet. Send. Help.
You turn to your phone for some distracting meme content but the instagram algorithm is in bridezilla mode now too. Everyone on there is at a picturesque wedding on a greek island or tying the knot in a castle where the sun always shines. You pivot your doom scrolling to TikTok, surely a safe haven of cleaning videos or career gurus, only to be fed a slow tempo piano version of a Coldplay song captioned “What if YELLOW is your wedding entrance song”. I conclude that there is nowhere to hide from the bridezilla curse. No one is safe.
Needless to say, we won’t be eloping, I won’t be wearing a suit and in line with tradition my sister will be the Maid of Honour. On the hen-do I said I wasn’t having, I told a drag queen I’m getting married on New Years Eve, “that takes some main character energy!” she shouted in Irish drawl. You can always trust a drag queen for an honest opinion and she’s right, there’s nothing low key about it!
So maybe I am becoming the bridezilla of my nightmares. And yet, I can’t help feeling that my dreams have come true.
OK, THANKS for this 👏🏻💖 I remember the look of horror on some people's faces when they discovered I wasn't wearing my engagement ring "on the right finger" or the subtle gasp of the woman at the bridal shop when I said I wouldn't be wearing heels. And gotta say...I love these little rebellious moments!