I Spend My Time Just Thinkin, Thinkin, Thinkin 'Bout You.

This was originally a post about how I’m not exactly a wedding type of girl. How I’m not the type of girl who has had her wedding colors, music, and theme picked out since junior high. But then I realized some things go without saying. Plus, my general lack of wedding knowhow kind of makes me apprehensive to post about weddings in the first place, mostly because I know the likelihood of it coming off as one big cliché is high. And I’m trying to avoid clichés like the plague.

This comes up because I spent most of yesterday wedding dress shopping with Sandy, who was probably even less of a wedding girl than I was before she got engaged.

Someone else who sadly may not be a wedding girl is the bride who was trying on a dress next to Sandy in the second store we visited. She just looked… awkward, for lack of a better word, in her gown. Now, it may be because her choice was fairly ugly, but we were all inclined to think she just isn’t suited to be in a wedding dress. {Sad and judgmental, I know.} At this point I started to wonder if I am a wedding dress type of girl. My mom insisted that I am, and told me to try on a dress for “fun,” but I could not quite bring myself to do it. Instead, I put on a veil and stood in front of a mirror.

And let me tell you, I looked awful.

Maybe it was the unattractive veil. Maybe it just clashed with my converse, my jeans, my flannel shirt, and my hoodie. Maybe it was my less than perfect hair or my extreme lack of makeup. Maybe it was the unpleasant expression on my face.

Or maybe I am just not a wedding girl.

And maybe the fact that this distressing revelation and the even more distressing reflection in the mirror worried me more than it should have {I’m writing about it, aren’t I?} is evidence to the fact that I am more of a wedding type of girl than I ever realized. It’s not like I haven’t thought about my wedding, because I definitely have. But it is always in the vague distant future, with nothing exactly defined. {Although still distinctly perfect.} Even when I visited Tucson this fall and ended up looking through bridal magazines with two friends of mine who are definitely wedding girls, the only preferences I could be persuaded to divulge include my love for brightly colored daises and the song Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley.

Admittedly, however, those are preferences. And they are things I have thought about. And if I am being honest with myself, I want to look good in a veil, dang it. {If, you know, I decide that veils are pretty, and not ridiculous.}

So just maybe I am a wedding girl. And maybe somewhere in the vague distant future that will come in handy.

{Oh my. Yesterday must have really done a number on me. For a post that was not supposed to be about weddings control+find tells me I have used the word wedding 16 times in this one short post.}