Somewhere, out there, the strapless wedding dress is making people feel bad, and activists are encouraging women to "just say no" to looking bad on the big day.
This is possibly less exciting than the invention of panties that prevent camel-toe, and likely less problematic, but moving on.
photo credit Robert Peate
This should probably go ahead and just go on the list of First World Problems for the day, but since "Say Yes to the Dress" is still kind of on my bad-TV-respite radar -- (meaning, I watch Teen Mom, et. al because (a) it makes me feel better about my life and (b) it requires zero brain cells and (c) it's one of many televised drama's I get to feel all judgey about in the privacy of my own home, because I'd never spend a jillion dollars on a dress [more like 100]) -- I thought I'd weigh in.
An excerpt from the article:
"Sexy Bride Disease is a real thing that affects real people [...] Strapless dresses, as Goldstein points out, can lead to armpit overhang, to uniboob, to "stick arms," to ham hock arms, to making otherwise perfectly beautiful women who look stunning in nearly every other clothing style look doughy.
I'm allegedly planning a wedding (I say "allegedly" because I've been engaged for several months now and every time acquaintances ask me if we've set a date yet, I make the sort of face someone might make if they'd been ask to clean up several piles of fresh, still-warm cat vomit) [...]"
Because I'm all "commenty" these days, and apparently need to stop linking to my thoughts and just write a blog post already, I've re-fashioned my original response to the article below:
Dear "Sexy Bride Disease,"
I think the same rules apply for bikinis, and baby shoes (although even sans baby, the shoes are still pretty adorable). At least the latter makes chub look charming. I'd also like to add, we could say no to not only the "strapless" but also the "dress" and the "dream" entirely.
You can do what you want, obviously [says Obvious Girl, obviously].
Besides, cleaning up luke-warm cat vomit isn't that bad. I know I had to hold my nose (er, tongue) throughout my entire wedding ceremony, which as it turns out, really was never about "me" (although I did hear the "it's your day" reminder enough times to make me want to take up kickboxing).
Ten pounds and ten years later, I still wish I'd never put myself through the ceremony of attempting to live up to my family's expectations.
Not to disparage the beautiful photography (or my husband) or the effort, time, and love that was put into setting up the whole thing by my stepmother and other family members. It's just that (and if you've been reading for a while, you already know I have mommy issues) having "the biological" and the for-all-intents-and-purposes "practical mom (read: stepmom)" who helped raise me up to be the wonderful woman I am today (thanks, by the way) all in one place wasn't really a dream come true. I probably should have just skipped that part.
And you know, if you're worried about looking "doughy" on "the big day" you and marriage have got a come-to-jesus meeting in the works. Just sayin'.
Marriage is so much more than "the wedding" leads us to believe. I think I read something not long ago on The Meat and Potatoes of Life that sums this up in a way that makes me want to pee in my pants (and no, not in a so drunk you passed out and pissed on yourself, and it was nice for about ten minutes, and now you're cold, kind of way [see Margaret Cho for attribution]).
Jess [at] b&b
P.S. I wish you had really written this about "Sexy Bride Disease" instead of how you think you look fat in a sleeveless dress, and inquiries into when you're getting married make you look like you want to puke.
This post originally appeared on my blog on May 18, 2012. Unless otherwise noted, images and other creative content are my original creative work and are protected under a Creative Commons License. If you'd like to contact me, or have questions about sharing this article, please review my Frequently Asked Questions page, or contact me via email bruteandbird[at]gmail[dot]com.
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