On Weddings and Comparison
Part 4 in the On Weddings series. Part 1 available here, Part 2 available here, and Part 3 available here.
Weddings are all about comparison.
It shouldn't be that way, should it? And maybe it's just me, maybe that's the thorn in my side. That's fine. But I have the feeling that it's not just me. {Maybe not everybody, but not just me.}
As girls, we talk through our wedding plans. For a while, everyone has the same plan--beautiful white dress, with a long train and a cinematic love story. But at some point, probably in those teen years when we find ourselves, we begin to differ. We have styles. We have personalities.
Rustic. Romantic. Modern. Preppy. Whimsical. Bohemian. Alternative. Classic.
And it just gets worse from there. Every time we attend a wedding. Every time we see photos of a wedding. And if no one has gotten married recently enough, every time we log onto Pinterest or r/weddings.
I didn't love her dress, I would have made it longer. I would have had a veil. I would have written my own vows. I would have made sure the sound system worked. I would have had fewer bridesmaids. More bridesmaids. Matching bridesmaids. No bridesmaids.
I’ve written about how toxic these sentiments are, elsewhere. But this is about the other side, the side where it’s you judging yourself.
If you dream of getting married someday, then you spend your pre-engagement life (probably at least a couple decades) observing weddings and comparing them to your ideal.
You then spend your engagement observing weddings and comparing them to your plans, and comparing your plans to your ideal. You compare and compare and compare for months on end, balancing schedules and budgets and other peoples' preferences, constantly checking back to see if what you're planning aligns with what you've dreamt of.
Spoiler alert: unless you have endless cash and skin like flint, your day probably won’t be all your dreams come true. I’ve written elsewhere about why it’s probably not perfect.
Not to mention that the engagement season has you traipsing about stores you have no business shopping in, making registries with employees who are paid to be snobby. You start to think about plates that match and expensive duvet covers, and that nice-to-have whipped cream maker becomes a need. Because you saw the video of the whipped cream maker at work. And because all self-respecting boho millennials have duvet covers that cost as much as a flight to Portland itself.
What I am trying to say is, by the time you get back from your honeymoon--which was obviously a disappointment given the lack of full-body beach pictures on Instagram--the mantra of comparison is engraved into your skull. And it doesn't go away. (Yep, the habits you create while wedding planning are still habits once you’re wed.)
You quickly realize that despite your best efforts, the wedding didn't live up to your ideal, not even the ideal of the plan you’d compromised on. You observe following weddings and compare against them; chances are, you lose. You've got the fancy duvet cover, but it's six months later, and you still haven't looked for sham pillows for the matching, fancy sham pillowcases.
In fact, though the wedding is over, the culture of comparison that pervades weddings--before and afterward--doesn't go away. The feeling of not enough--not enough guests, not enough dress, not enough cake, not enough authenticity--becomes familiar. For over a year now (the planning, the recovering), you’ve been failing at every turn. You don't remember what it's like to live up to your own standards.
Suddenly, nothing is enough. You're not organized enough. Not decorative enough. Not pretty enough. Not industrious enough. Not clean enough. Not chill enough. Not anything enough.
Sure, like anyone, I felt all of those at times before I was engaged. That's human nature. But now I find this constant comparison to be my shadow. It's there every time I turn around.
We’ve all heard that comparison is the thief of joy. It’s true.
This is part of a series on how we, as a culture, think about weddings in America. We judge them. We expect perfection. But the bride pays for this mass mentality, as comparison becomes a part of life in the season of engagement. As anything short of perfection becomes unacceptable. Those beliefs don’t melt away during the honeymoon.
They’re only just beginning.
Final post in this series next week.
Weddings are all about comparison.
It shouldn't be that way, should it? And maybe it's just me, maybe that's the thorn in my side. That's fine. But I have the feeling that it's not just me. {Maybe not everybody, but not just me.}
As girls, we talk through our wedding plans. For a while, everyone has the same plan--beautiful white dress, with a long train and a cinematic love story. But at some point, probably in those teen years when we find ourselves, we begin to differ. We have styles. We have personalities.
Rustic. Romantic. Modern. Preppy. Whimsical. Bohemian. Alternative. Classic.
And it just gets worse from there. Every time we attend a wedding. Every time we see photos of a wedding. And if no one has gotten married recently enough, every time we log onto Pinterest or r/weddings.
I didn't love her dress, I would have made it longer. I would have had a veil. I would have written my own vows. I would have made sure the sound system worked. I would have had fewer bridesmaids. More bridesmaids. Matching bridesmaids. No bridesmaids.
I’ve written about how toxic these sentiments are, elsewhere. But this is about the other side, the side where it’s you judging yourself.
If you dream of getting married someday, then you spend your pre-engagement life (probably at least a couple decades) observing weddings and comparing them to your ideal.
You then spend your engagement observing weddings and comparing them to your plans, and comparing your plans to your ideal. You compare and compare and compare for months on end, balancing schedules and budgets and other peoples' preferences, constantly checking back to see if what you're planning aligns with what you've dreamt of.
Spoiler alert: unless you have endless cash and skin like flint, your day probably won’t be all your dreams come true. I’ve written elsewhere about why it’s probably not perfect.
Not to mention that the engagement season has you traipsing about stores you have no business shopping in, making registries with employees who are paid to be snobby. You start to think about plates that match and expensive duvet covers, and that nice-to-have whipped cream maker becomes a need. Because you saw the video of the whipped cream maker at work. And because all self-respecting boho millennials have duvet covers that cost as much as a flight to Portland itself.
What I am trying to say is, by the time you get back from your honeymoon--which was obviously a disappointment given the lack of full-body beach pictures on Instagram--the mantra of comparison is engraved into your skull. And it doesn't go away. (Yep, the habits you create while wedding planning are still habits once you’re wed.)
You quickly realize that despite your best efforts, the wedding didn't live up to your ideal, not even the ideal of the plan you’d compromised on. You observe following weddings and compare against them; chances are, you lose. You've got the fancy duvet cover, but it's six months later, and you still haven't looked for sham pillows for the matching, fancy sham pillowcases.
In fact, though the wedding is over, the culture of comparison that pervades weddings--before and afterward--doesn't go away. The feeling of not enough--not enough guests, not enough dress, not enough cake, not enough authenticity--becomes familiar. For over a year now (the planning, the recovering), you’ve been failing at every turn. You don't remember what it's like to live up to your own standards.
Suddenly, nothing is enough. You're not organized enough. Not decorative enough. Not pretty enough. Not industrious enough. Not clean enough. Not chill enough. Not anything enough.
Sure, like anyone, I felt all of those at times before I was engaged. That's human nature. But now I find this constant comparison to be my shadow. It's there every time I turn around.
We’ve all heard that comparison is the thief of joy. It’s true.
This is part of a series on how we, as a culture, think about weddings in America. We judge them. We expect perfection. But the bride pays for this mass mentality, as comparison becomes a part of life in the season of engagement. As anything short of perfection becomes unacceptable. Those beliefs don’t melt away during the honeymoon.
They’re only just beginning.
Final post in this series next week.
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