Stand By Me…or Not by Christine

After John proposed, I’m pretty sure the first thing I did was call up my best girlfriends and John’s two incredible sisters and ask them to be my bridesmaids before I even said yes to the sweat-beaded, heavily breathing John (just kidding, love, but you were so nervous, and rightfully so). As soon as he got up from bending down on that dirt scuffed knee, I instantly began dreaming of poufy princess dresses with tulle wrapped around me like a white pumpkin, I think a castle was involved, and obviously, my nearest and dearest ladies who I would honor with being my maids for the day. Did I say maids? I meant bridesmaids, of course. Anyway, they would be my lovely sugar plum faeries who would stand with me at the altar lined up behind me like pretty knickknacks all in a neat, uniformly-colored row. I even took a couple of them to David’s Bridal and had them try on different Easter egg colored dresses (I love you, ladies, and thank you for indulging me) as I paraded around in bridal dresses that cost more than two months of my rent. Needless to say, I needed to rethink my Disney princess expectations, and I needed to do so pronto.

As time progressed, John and I realized the truth of our budget, and we decided to have a more intimate (a nice way of saying “cheaper”) affair complete only with our closest family and friends. As I began to jot down my invite list, I soon realized that a majority of the guests I would be inviting would be standing next to me during the ceremony. We wanted our guest list to be under 50 people (at most) and I planned 6 to be standing by my side. That meant John would also have to have 6 flanking him as well, which equaled a grand total of at least 25% of our guests standing with us. John knows how much the women in my life mean to me, and I think he pouted a little with crinkled, puppy dog eyes when he looked at me hesitantly and said, “Do we have to have bridesmaids and groomsmen?” After the steam dispersed from my ears and my face returned to its normal color, I’m pretty sure I calmly replied, “Yes, darling,” and we returned to planning a small, elegant, perfect event even without bridesmaids (and groomsmen, of course).

So, although this decision may not sound so significant to some, it was to me, and I felt a profound amount of guilt uninviting my carefully selected (actually, it was pretty darn easy) bridesmaids. I went as far as carefully crafting a letter to John’s sisters apologizing for my lack of foresight to casually bringing it up to my girlfriends, and in some cases, I’m not sure I even brought it up at all. So, for those maids who already know, and for those who are hearing this for the first time, I’m sorry. I apologize for not dressing you up in vibrant colors and girly fabrics and parading you around proudly. I really did want to, but I guess we always have the bachelorette party for that…

(Side note: In reality, John does not wince when he asks me questions, and he is not at all the pansy I may have portrayed him as. Thanks, John, for letting me portray you as a pouty puppy in this entry and as Robin Hood in the last. I love you).

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