Wedding Wednesday

I went to 3 high schools. Not because I was a bad seed who couldn't fit in (how could you think that?!), but we moved several times during my teen years and always seemed to land in different cities or states. I developed friendships every place we went, but never really fostered a deep connection with people or places. It was always in the back of my mind that we would be moving again, so what was the point? By the time I got to my senior year I wasn't even bothered to purchase a year book. As a result of all this moving, I never developed a proper sense of sentimentality. I wasn't the girl with collages of her friends on her bedroom wall and I never kept a diary. I always wanted to start scrap booking but never felt I had anything worth remembering (plus moving craft supplies from one place to another is a pain in the butt).

Now that I have settled down and have more control over my life than a teenage me did, I have an overwhelming urge to document my experiences. To take pictures and notes and put them in albums, to have something to remember my friends by if I/they move, to have some sort of proof that I was young once with thoughts and feelings and experiences. 

I want to be sure to remember the ups and downs of this crazy journey from here on out. So, in keeping with this train of thought, I give you:

Wedding Wednesday  

The Lion Man proposed in Costa Rica in March of 2012. I had an idea a proposal was coming, but it was the last day of our trip, and still nothing. I decided that maybe I was wrong. Oh well. We made a plan to take a day trip to a small island off the coast and go snorkeling. It was beautiful. We were swimming around, admiring all of the incredible fish and marine life and The Lion Man asked me to take a picture of him with our underwater camera. I pulled it out and started to fidget with the buttons. We went under water and I lifted the camera to snap a shot of him. On the other end of the lens I see him grinning from ear to ear with a laminated card asking me to marry him. Tied to the card with a piece of fishing line was a ring! I gasped. Have you ever tried gasping underwater? I wouldn't recommend it. But once we got passed the choking part of things, the rest of the day was surreal. 

On the plane ride back to The States we had plenty of time to get down to the nitty-gritty of planning. Locations, dates, food, how big, time of day.... We discuss everything, and all the while the Jett in my head is doing cartwheels and chanting "A dress, a dress! I get to buy a wedding dress!!"

I knew exactly what I wanted. I have always loved the styles of the 1940's and 50's. I am by no means a rock-a-billy gal, but I have been known to sport a bouffant every now and again. A poofy, tea length, party dress was a no brainer. 

My mother flew out and she and my future sister-in-law (Hi Meghan!) and I went shopping. I tried on this dress by Fancy New York and LOVED it!

Fancy New York Emily Vintage Tea Length

"It's cute," was the response I got. 

Cute? I have always had an issue with being called cute. 

First of all, I'm 5'9". Not that big girls can't be cute, but I never felt the description matches my body type. 

Secondly, I'm pretty cynical. "Cute" is typically not the adjective people use to describe my personality, and I knew I wanted my dress to be an outward expression of who I am internally.

Finally, I would be wearing this frock while walking toward my future husband. I would prefer to have him think, "Holy cow, I cannot wait to get her naked tonight!" NOT "Aww, isn't she just the cutest thing?"

As much as I love the Fancy dress, cute gave it the boot. 

I tried on several more dresses, none of which really did it for me. The sales lady and I had a heart to heart and finally got to the center of the issue. We wanted a fiesta themed wedding, so why not try on a fiesta themed dress? She brought in a garment that I never would have picked. She begged my to try it on. 

Ok, ok. I wriggled into the thing and let the sales lady button me in me in. It was a custom made dress that the original owner decided she did not want. Ladies, the original owner must have been my twin. The dress was a damn near perfect fit. 

I walked out of the dressing room. My mother gasped, Meghan said "Whoa," and every sales lady in the joint turned to ooggle me in that dress. I knew then that it was MY dress. I still get goose bumps thinking about what it felt like to know for the first time that this is what I would be wearing on my wedding day. 

My advice to you? Don't buy a dress because it is what you think you want. Talk to your sales lady and listen to what she has to say. And please, PLEASE don't order a dress online without first trying it (or something similar) on first. Otherwise you might end up "cute."

Keep it Fancy,
Jett