Two weeks from tomorrow, I take that long walk from single 40-something mother of mostly grown kids to empty nester newly wed.
Despite my obvious practice at this, it's harder than you might think finding the right dress for my fourth wedding.
"Fourth wedding" sounds ghastly, so I prefer to say I'm marrying my third husband. That at least sounds a bit less Elizabeth-Tayloresque. My second husband was stretched over two marriages, so this is my third husband, fourth marriage.
OK, now back to the important thing. The dress.
I walked miles in malls and searched online versions of those same stores. I'm too young for the MOB dresses (mother of the bride) and "dignified"--and I hope you appreciate the humor in uttering "fourth wedding" and "dignified" in the same breath--enough not to wear something clearly too young for me.
It all looks like Briteny Spears prom dresses or something Aunt Esther might have worn to a fancy church meeting on Sanford and Son.
I told my mother I felt like those paper bags of bananas you buy at the grocery store, five pounds for a dollar. Not old and rotten enough to throw out, but close enough to going bad that you've gotta get them off the shelf. Pronto.
What's the right packaging for that?
Friends who know me and my Mr. Wonderful's green leanings, teased me about finding a recycled dress. And I DID find one. Made of recycled plastic and silk tulle, looked like a cross between Japanese paper and lace, and dotted with Swarvorski crystals. At $7,000, that was a big fat I don't think so.
My friend Doug (the "flower girl" for my upcoming wedding) found my dress on bluefly.com. Through Internet magic--also where Mr. Wonderful found his Ralph Lauren tuxedo and our platinum wedding bands (on eBay--natch!)--Doug found the dress. Not at all the dress I'd imagined: something tailored, understated, sensible and befitting someone who wasn't exactly new at this. Nope. Not that. Instead, we found a glamorous, romantic, formal gown.
Before I found the dress, I whined to Mr. Wonderful that it was impossible to find the appropriate thing for this occasion. "I can't wear a big, dumb wedding dress," I simpered.
"Why not? You're getting married," he said, very gently and sweetly, melting me into tears immediately.
Thank God finding love has nothing to do with deserving it. But maybe keeping it has everything to do with appreciating it. And I do. I will.
I am getting married. Me. Again.
To the sweetest, kindest, most trustworthy man I've ever known. Well, except for the man who'll take me down that long walk into my future married life, my Dad. Who, by the way, loves Mr. Wonderful almost as much as I do. Heck, Dad proposed to my groom long before I did.
"I look forward to the day I can call you my son-in-law," he said, about 18 months ago.
So, the dress is new. Only the bride is recycled.
