During Christmas vacation in 1979, in the middle of my senior year at the College of the Holy Cross, in Worcester, MA, I was home with my family in Plattsburgh, NY. It was during that break, sometime around New Year's, that my longtime boyfriend and I took each set of parents out for a drink, separately, to break the news that we were going to get married (and that it would probably happen the following December, since he would be in flight school after graduation and Christmas was the only sure time he would be able to take leave).
There was no diamond ring involved (we were two poor college students!), no getting down on one knee, no hoopla. We had been dating since the summer following our freshman year in high school when we were both 15, with a couple of brief, mutually agreed upon "breaks" to make sure that we weren't holding each other back; at this point the two of us had been privately planning our future together for about two solid years. By the time we broke the big news to our folks, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion--so nobody was gasping with surprise when they heard about it.
Once the engagement was announced, my mom and I thought it would be fun if I tried on her wedding gown, especially since I thought that if it suited me, I might decide to wear it for my big day. This grainy snapshot is the only proof I have that I did try it on that winter, and that it actually fit me. (My 57-year-old middle section is jealous of my 21-year-old waistline, I'll tell you that.)
|I love that a picture of my mom wearing the dress is visible in this shot, too.|
I'm glad I tried it on; but I didn't say yes to my mother's dress.
I ultimately decided that although Mom's wedding gown was lovely, it was too "Scarlett O'Hara" for me, with its big hoop skirt, and that I might prefer something long-sleeved for a winter wedding. I didn't try on many dresses before I found "the one" that made me say yes; but I discovered during that short hunting process that I didn't like the way I looked in pure white. As soon as I put on the antique white (or champagne)-colored gown that I ended up buying, it made me feel like a beautiful bride. I knew immediately that it was the dress for me, and I never looked back. It was on a clearance rack for $90, but it made me feel like a million bucks.
Yeah, that's it. That's the ticket.
|Our first dance, to...??????|
But I do really wish I could remember what was playing when the photo above was snapped! Some of my sisters-in-law have tried to rectify this situation for us, so that we can dance to "our" first dance song at family weddings. The song they chose for us is "Wild Ones" by Flo Rida. It's so us. If you don't believe me, check out these rap-tastic lyrics:
Hey I heard you were a wild one
If I took you home
It'd be a home run
Show me how you do
I want to shut down the club
Hey I heard you like the wild ones
I like crazy, foolish, stupid
Party going wild, fist pumping
Music, I might lose it
Blast to the roof, that's how we do'z it
|Flo Rida? I think?|
yesterday's post is the most recent bride to wear it. But this post is getting long, so I'll save that for tomorrow!
Stay tuned for Part 2 of "Saying Yes to the Dress"--it's going to be so much better than the TLC show with a similar name, I guarantee it. ;)